Half Alive  Half Dead
by MK-ONE
Summary: Oh what the hell... I was feeling a little quirky one night and started to write a dark humor Harry fic.Harry has an accident and decides to do things his way. Maybe not a nice way, but expedient and at times...funny. MK-ONE
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Half Alive/Half Dead**

**Chapter One: See-Ya, Snape**

I'm just sitting down to lunch. Steak- rare, both bloody and brilliant. My taste buds are dancing in eager anticipation. I strike my knife and fork together with such ferocity that sparks fill the air.

I've got to admit, it's an impressive display. Oh, it's not fireworks, mind,.. but it is enough to have everyone around me move their own chair further away in trepidation.

_Everyone around me? Hah, that's a crock! _There hasn't been anyone around me in close proximity since that first bleak day when I awoke to find that I was no longer the same me.

Some would claim I'm far more than what I was, but still beneath contempt. Others would claim I'm far less than what I was...but still, also, beneath contempt.

My opinion...par for the course.

My current predicament is just another in a long line of 'taking it up the arse' or another day in the life of the 'boy who lived'. Strike that,.. I guess we better change it to the 'boy who died'.

Wait no,.. maybe it's: 'The boy who died and returned'? 'Half died'? 'Half lived'?

I know.. it's the 'boy who can't decide '. Hey, ..I like that. Though the truth is, I've already decided, not that it was an exactly hard decision, nor was it easy.

Here's how the dilemma started...

* * *

><p><strong>One month earlier...<strong>

Her I am, just a week ago. Merlin knows, strike that...it's frowned upon; my use of magical sayings is now cosidered taboo.

Anyway, I'm thoroughly not enjoying yet another summer on the prison work farm known as the "Dursley's".

Day in day out,.. you got to hand it to Vernon; the bastard does know how to abuse someone without leaving a mark. He could give old Voldie a lesson or two on torture. Not that Voldie has the patience for it, thank God.

_Notice I said; 'thank God', see,.. nice generic term, no magical reference- I'm being good_.

As I was saying, Vernon has made torture an art form. No beatings or rape, just mind numbing toil, intermittent with character assassina**tion**, degrada**tion** and let's not forget the ever popular...starva**tion**. Vernon likes all things with a 'tion' suffix.

Now starvation's the key here folks. It keeps the person too weak to resist all the degradation let alone fight back.

Now, I don't want to complain, but I've had an entire year of Delores Umbitch- who was no slouch in the character assassination and torture department.

I'm sure on some level it all contributed to my having made the abysmal decision to go to the Ministry of Magic on a rescue mission that culminated with me actually getting the person of interest killed rather than rescued.

What can I say.. I'm hell in a fight, but not much for the whole strategic planning thing.

Bottom line... Sirius is dead. My friends are in various states of injury and either not talking to me, or ordered by Dumbles to have 'no contact'.

I'm guessing it's a bit of both.

Those were the first two punches delivered in the opening round. Vernon's the knockout blow whose waiting for the chance to land that right hook he's banking on.

So anyway... I'm grieving, alone, miserable and endlessly tired from working day in and day out from dawn to dusk with little to **no** food, but thankfully I can still get all the water I can lap up out of the garden hose.

I'm burnt raw from going without a tee shirt while working in the hot sun. –_Isn't it supposed to turn into a tan after awhile?_

The reason I don't wear a tee shirt is because it's so abysmally foul from several days work without being afforded the luxury of a shower, let alone the use of a laundry. I'd go without pants if I could get away with it. As it is.. it feels like my jockeys are welded to my sticky arse.

Did I mention the Dursley's excel at degradation? It's all in keeping with the cover story that I'm some deranged delinquent, or some such.

In my current state, I definitely look the part,... smell it too.

Am I rambling again? Sorry, I tend to do that now as the loneliness has made of me my one and only companion and I never tire of feeling sorry for myself.

As I was saying; I'm tired, miserable and alone. If Dumbles even has a guard on me,(which I doubt), they're damn good at ignoring my plight. Either that or they just don't give a hang.

Again, I'm guessing it's a bit of both.

It's getting toward **_twilight_**, funny that,.. I laugh to myself at the irony. Anyway,... it's getting dark out. Now, I'm not mad like 'Mad eye' Moody, (at least I don't think so, but how do you know if you are, right?), but I've got a bad feeling all of a sudden. Now, I'm not Spider-man either, but I do have great instincts,(probably from always being attacked as a kid by Dudley and friends, as a kid and by Voldie and his goons as an adult).

Right now, my 'spidy-sense' is a tingling something fierce.

Almost on cue, a scream rips through the muggy night air of our muggle neighborhood.

Unfortunately, I recognize the scream. Even more unfortunately, despite the identity of said screaming person, I go to lend assistance.

I do it more out of respect for my dead mother than for my Aunt's sake.

I find my aunt and my 'useless coward of a cousin' in the same culvert where the dementors attacked me and my 'useless coward of a cousin' last year.

_Why do the dark and evil cling to classic locations to work their foul deeds? You know; graveyards, catacombs, my back yard?_

It turn out there's vampires; three of them. Voldie must've taken a leaf out of Umibitch's page.

Two of them have Dudley by the arms not that he's any threat to them in the offensive department other than having just soiled himself.

_Phew! Jesus Dud,.. what have you been eating?_

The other vamp is currently using my aunt for his own personal puppet, eliciting no end of screeches and cries for help, and here I am..Du-Du-Du-Dah!

Now, like I said, I'm not much of a strategist, more of a people person, but even I know a set up when I see one.

I enter the culvert, brilliant right? Well, no, not really, but at least I've learned the hard way and I ward the way I came in to keep from getting a surprise from behind while I'm dealing with Larry ,Curley and Moe and no,.. I don't want no moe, that's why I set the ward in the first place.

I decapitate the taller of the two nearest me, (the one that's holding Dudley), with a well placed _severing curse_. Unfortunately, my aim is great and I miss Dudley altogether,.. so much for the hope of collateral damage.

The other tosses Dudley at me like a baseball, apparently trying to avoid his comrade's fate?

Despite his freaky speed and even freakier strength; with my seeker reflexes I manage to get off a nice_ incendio hex_ and he goes up like a Roman candle.

The third of the trio, I'll call him Moe, (as he's the least nice of the three), he abandons tormenting my aunt and is now using her as a human shield.

Eyeing me, his feral eyes glowing in the dim radiance of the tunnels mercury lighting, he waits for me to make my move.

"Voldemort sent you, right?" I ask in morbid curiosity.

The creature merely nods in response, his talon fingers digging cruelly into my aunt's upper arms, causing her to whimper while she goggles petrified, silently begging me to save her.

With a calculating eye, I note the vamp's a good six to eight inches taller than my aunt.

_Ah, well,... I've always had a soft spot for the ladies._

"Tell Voldie,... ah, hell... I'll tell him myself."

I use the vamp's height advantage against him and conjure an arrow that I banish into my aunt's shoulder with such force that it pushes right through and into the vamp's chest behind her.

She screams out more in fear than pain. The vampire screams in _definitely_ more pain than fear.

Did you know that vampires tend to be unstable when their hearts are pierced by wood? Some explode, some implode, some go up in flames and others just turn to dust and float away on the breeze.

This one... he rips free from my aunt, arrow and all, and bounces off the culvert walls like a pachinko ball, screaming and howling fit to wake the dead.

_Wake the dead? Har!_

Finally, the dying vamp explodes, raining guts and gristle down on the rest of us.

_What a drama queen._

Also, did you know that fire incapacitates a vampire, but doesn't kill it unless it burns it right down to the bone? I didn't.

Chalk one up to inept DADA teachers. This is another fine mess you've gotten me into Stanley, I mean, Dumbles.

I just register the foul smell of 'burnt dog' when the second vamp becomes a distinct pain in the neck.

He starts slurping away on me like I'm a snow cone. Despite the pain, or in spite of it; I reverse grip on my wand and blast the burnt crispy into ash just before I pass out from blood loss, though in retrospect; it's probably more from exhaustion and starvation- _thanks, Vernon._

I wake up a week later, gasping in pain as bright light burns into my brain like one of Snape's patented 'mind rapes'.

"My apologies, Mr. Potter." The Hogwart's healer says as she pulls the infirmary's drapes close.

_Thank, God!_

Spots are dancing before my eyes but at least it's tolerable compared to the searing pain of the bright light.

"I'm afraid you'll tend to be sensitive to bright light from now on." She explains with a hint of sympathy in her voice.

"Am I,... did I...c-change?" I hear myself stammer in a voice laced with fear, the sound of which is alien even to me.

"Yes and no." The matron answers in a maddeningly vague fashion reminiscent of his Dumbleship.

"Yes and no?" I ask curiously, blinking as my eyes clear enough for me to cast a few furtive glances about.

"Yes in that you're no longer entirely human. No, in that neither are you precisely dead, or should I say, Undead? You are not a vampire, Mr. Potter. You lost a great deal of blood, but managed to fight off your attacker before he could drain you unto death. Normally, you would have recovered to your normal self, but...?"

"But what?" I ask becoming irritated with the distinct lack of pertinent information being delivered in an expedient fashion.

'_Expedient fashion'? OMIGOD, I've died and come back as Hermione's sister!_

"You did have a great deal of vampire blood upon your person from another such creature you dispatched, and some of that blood infected the wound on your neck." Pomfrey continued to explain.

"And?" I ask drolly, as the suspense is literally _killing me._

"And,... you are neither a vampire, nor are you the human wizard that you were. You are something in between, Mr. Potter." She returned succinctly.

"So I'm what,... Blade?" I ask with the beginning of a 'too cool for words' kind of excitement growing in the pit of my stomach.

"Blade?" she asks, not understanding the reference.

"He's a fictional comic book character." I answer. "Half vampire/half human, but all the strengths of a vampire though none of the weaknesses. Sort of a dark superhero."

Pomfrey smirks at that. "Yes, well.. don't plan on any comic convention appearances just yet. As to the rest,.. we shall see? I doubt you'll be in the superhero category, though hero definitely applies, ." she complements, causing me to color in embarrassment.

* * *

><p><strong>That was then- This is now...<strong>

So, here I am, trying to enjoy my rare steak and who should plop down across from me and make snide comments at my expense?

Nah,... you're wrong, not Malfoy. That little ferret practically flees in terror every time I round a corner that he's on the other side of.

No, this is none other than former co-best mate, Ron Weasly, who blanches at my meal and asks sarcastically.

"Why not eliminate the middleman and just go for the jugular?"

"Are you offering?" I return seamlessly, letting my incisors lengthen in anticipation. I'm rewarded with watching Ron pale like a ghost before he decides he's lost his appetite and attends to something far more pressing that needs doing, somewhere else.

_So vampirism is the cure to Weasley gluttony- who knew?_

"I suppose you think that's funny?" A prim voice cuts in from farther down the table.

_Ah,.. the other former co-best mate makes her displeasure known. If you ever want to know who your friends truly are, just get yourself fanged by a vamp and see who sticks after._

"Not uproariously, no, but one must take pleasure where one finds it these days." I answer, continuing my meal, without giving her the benefit of my undivided attention.

Apparently she does hold more of my interest that I thought as I decide to tweak her nose a bit.

"Oh, and do cut down on the garlic you carry around, won't you? There's enough already on the pasta you're eating." I comment off handedly, adding, "It doesn't work you know, other than to make one that much more appetizing. If I liked garlic, that is,... which I do." At this I turn and leer suggestively at Hermione and am rewarded with a tremulous huff of indignation. The tremble gives her away more than she realizes.

Ginny snorts a laugh at Hermione's expense.

_Ah, Ginny, and what might have been? _I've giving up my schoolboy crush on the youngest Weasley, had to really. I didn't have much of a choice after the accident.

Accident? It was more of an _awakening_ actually. Like I said; you find out who your friends truly are.

I can't be with, Ginny,..ever. Her brothers explained it to me.

Now, while I'm far stronger than most humans, I'm still weaker than most vamps. I do heal almost as quickly though, which in this case was not a bonus as the Weasley boys took delight in beating me up and then being able to do it all over when I managed to heal up just as they were recovering their strength.

They compared me to Chinese cuisine; something about being able to stuff yourself and a half hour later being able to enjoy it all over again.

Ron was among them- voracious appetite as always. Even the twins took part, though I don't think their hearts were in it as they were definitely hitting with less behind it than their siblings, and those two are beaters after all.

Anyway, that's all water under the bridge, as they say.

I've finished my lunch and am off to double Potions with Snapey. Another ironic twist to the whole half vamp thing is that Snape detests me even more than he did previously, which is saying something as he really hated me before. Again... funny. It's funny because Snape is often referred to as a great bat or great Greasy bat, yet he seems quite terrified of all things vampiric in nature.

Again... funny. Funny because he's paler than I ever was, vampiric or starving. The part that's most ironic is that usually he'd have taken a load of points off me by this far into the semester. I estimate somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred to a hundred fifty- just for breathing.

That may be part of the ironic, I mentioned. He's not taken any points thus far,.. maybe it's because he thinks I'm not breathing?

Actually, it's more because he can find nothing to criticize about my potion work.

You're shocked, I know, but it's true. Since my what.. accident? Well since the _change_ my senses are enhanced, ie.. smell, taste, hearing... I could brew a potion in the dark by the smell of the ingredients and the brewing alone.

I barely have to concentrate on what I'm doing now to brew a perfect potion every time. Not that concentration's a problem either as everything is much clearer since the change. My attention to detail could give Sherlock Holmes a run for his money.

So here I am brewing three potions simultaneously, just because I can. I've taken to brewing the Wolf's bane potion as a favor to Remus... we half breed's must stick together. I also don't necessarily trust Snape with his brewing of it. Lately, Remus has described some effects that don't jive with a properly brewed potion as the pain involved with the transformation should be negligible and Remus claims it's actually worse!

Now, I've always suspected, but since the change I know: Snape's dirty. And no, I'm not referring to his underwear, though that's another story as well. I'm talking evil. He's got Dumble's totally fooled, not that telling Dumble's will do any good. He'll just give me another load of "it's Professor Snape, Harry,.. and I trust him implicitly and with good reason, but that's strictly between the two of us".

What a load!

I know Snape's dirty for a simple primitive, but never the less, fool proof reason: I can smell it on him. I don't know if it's a vampire thing or if it's a hybrid thing or some whacky mixture of magic and vampirism, but bottom line: I can smell evil and foul intent.

And people, I'm telling you... Snape reeks!

Evil and vileness seep from the vermin's very pores.

What drives Snalpe bonkers is that he hasn't been able to sabotage a single potion of mine which was something he delighted in before. He hasn't been able to have one of his Sytherin stooges do it either as the moment I get a,_ whiff_ of foul play, my enhanced speed and senses foils their play before they can even begin.

So here I am, ignoring the looks of my former contemporaries and the sneers that Snape's shooting at my back as I'm brewing along. Currently, I'm brewing the sixth year assignment for the day... _pepper up potion_. I'm also simultaneously brewing a NEWT level:_ Blood replenishing potion_- one that's rapidly becoming a personal favorite. Lastly, I'm brewing a master's level: _Wolf's bane potion._

I'm just adding the powdered Drago's scale to my _blood replenishing potion_ when out of the corner of my eye I see Daphne Greengrass surreptitiously flick a newt's eye toward my Wolf's bane as Snape looks on with a morbid sense of glee.

I don't know what surprises me more: the fact that Snape's willing to place an entire class's wellbeing at risk from the explosive results the newt eye would have on my potion, or the fact that Daphne Greengrass, of all people, is actually doing the contemptible swine's bidding.

I'll ponder that later. Did I mention enhanced speed?

I twist toward my neighboring potions with ladle extended, in the pretense of checking said brews. My ladle cleanly scoops the newt eye right out of the air.

Snape is nearly bursting with maniacal glee, his wand casually to hand to know doubt solely shield himself from the impending disaster.

His bubble bursts when I innocently notice the speck in the bottom of my ladle which I remove and proceed to carry to the front and drolly drop in the waste basket directly in front of Snape with a bored expression on my face that clearly states that he is 'so out of my league'.

Despite our recent differences and his characteristic slowness on the uptake; Ron sniggers at that and promptly costs Gryffindor twenty five points. He also ruins his potion by allowing himself to be distracted at a critical juncture.

Ah well,.. I'd like to feel sorry for the oaf, but he did bring it on himself and besides the whole 'beat Harry' thing with his brothers does grate on me.

The bell's about to sound when I deliver my capped potion to the front to turn in for today's grade. I've barely turned when Snape titers a half hearted apology as somehow my vial dropped and shattered, ruining the potion.

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter," he smirks with anything but regret. "I'm afraid you'll have to take a zero for today?"

I roll my eyes.. he is so out of my league. "That's alright professor." I sooth knowingly and delight in watching his smirk disappear when a I pull another vial from my pocket explaining. " I capped additional vials in case the first me with one of your patented 'Unfortunate accidents' Perhaps you should be tested for Parkinson's?" I suggest with false concern.

Snape's eyes seethe with hatred. I turn away with a chuckle and am rewarded with the sound of another vial, only this time it tinkles musically as it bounces across the floor instead of shattering.

"Did I forget to mention that I charmed the vial _unbreakable_? I call over my shoulder sarcastically and am rewarded by a few students snorting at Snape's expense. "I also kept a third sample that I'll submit to professor Dumbledore should that one still mysteriously meet with an unfortunate accident, oh, and by the way... Slug and Jiggers is buying up my supply of Wolf's bane potion. It seems their former brewer was over inflating his, or her prices and was providing a barely standard grade product.

"Detention Potter!" he screams in outrage.

" You,... me.. alone in the dungeon... anything could happen.. and probably will..HA-HA-HA" I laugh maniacally as I sweep out of the dungeon lab without so much as a glance back.

I'm half way to my last class of the day, Transfiguration, when I happen across a suspiciously 'standing ajar' door of an unused classroom.

"Har-rry" I hear a distressed female voice hiss from within.

Now,.. I am thick when it comes to girls and I freely admit that. What I'm not though, contrary to popular belief, is stupid. I know a trap when I see one. Even though my enhanced senses **aren't** screaming in alarm that evil's afoot, that doesn't mean I'm not about to be made a fool.

From my vantage point, I can't see anyone in the three quarters of the room that's within my view. Therefore, I'm thinking they're lying behind the door in wait.

A burst of vampiric strength and a well placed kick sends the door rocketing inward.

"OHHHH-Owe!" I'm rewarded with a gasp of surprise followed by a screech of pain.

Pleased with myself, I saunter into the room to check my handiwork.

_Now that's a shame! _I think in actual regret as I've managed to break Daphne Greengrass' nose. The poor girls holding the broken remain of her perfect doll-like nose that's gushing blood trying her best,.. and failing 'not to cry'.

"I..I'm sorry, Ms Greengrass." I apologize, and what's more... I actually mean it.

"Vhat the hell vas fhat for?" she wheezes at me.

"Here, let me.." I reach toward her and she instinctively pulls back in fear. I try not to show the hurt I feel, but by the look of shame that ghosts through her crying eyes, she knows she's hurt me far more than I unthinkingly hurt her.

"It's alright.." I reassure her, surprised at how gentle I'm being and probably stunning her too. I cast a wandless, soundless _episkey, _healing the break.

She goggles at me and I'm not sure if it's the casual use of supposedly _impossible_ magic, or the fact that I've actually healed her when everyone else is just naturally assuming I'm an evil git out to drink their blood.

"T-Thanks" she manages to stammer, to which I shrug indifferently.

"How did you..?" she makes a funny gesture with her hand symbolizing the wandless bit.

"I'm not as inept as most people believed me to be." I offer vaguely, adding. "There's no reason to hide it any longer as I'm on my own now and people's opinion of me can't really get any lower or more fearful."

Daphne nods at that, understanding, even sympathizing with me, if I read her eyes right. They're a beautiful stormy grey color. I hadn't noticed that before.

"I'm sorry , again." With that I sheepishly turn to leave.

"No..." she blurts out..." I'm the one who's sorry. I tried to sabotage your potion.. I'm really sorry, Potter. Snape and Malfoy are pressuring a lot of us to step up their efforts to get you expelled. I...It's getting hard to refuse their, er.. advances." She hesitantly apologizes for her part in things whilst her eyes go out of focus as she's obviously remembering some traumatic encounter with one or both of the swine in question.

Like I said, I'm thick, but not stupid. I can read between the lines... the girl needs help. _Damn nobility streak.. here we go again!_

I nod my understanding of what she's trying not to say. "Just keep your head down." I warn her. "I'll ... see what I can do?" I make it sound pathetic, but actually, there's quite a bit I can probably do.

_Maybe detention with Snap's a good idea after all. _The wheels start to turn.

"If I do help, the next time I expect you to address me by my first name." I offer unconditionally.

Daphne smirks cunningly. "Allright,.. Harold."

I wince at that. It was a low blow and she knows it by the way her lilting laugh echoes back as she skips merrily down the hallway.

Entering Transfiguration class a solid ten minutes late I get the famous McGonagal glare of disproval that has most first years writing home in the fervent hope their parents will consider 'home schooling'.

I shrug in a half hearted apology offering.. "I was playing the hero again, bit of a story that, but I'd be happy to share the story over a cuppa or a bit of something stronger?" I offer hopefully.

McGonagal purses her lips distastefully as she hands out the usual.. "Detention Mr. Potter- Tonight!"

I clap my hands together winningly and squeal delightedly, "I've already got one with his greasiness tonight. Could we make it a double or better yet, a two for one? You two could pretend to check the stock cupboards for supplies. " At this I wink my eye suggestively and several classmates snort a laugh. "I'll play dumb and pretend that nothing's going on. For an extra sickle or two I'll even vouch for you if Dumbles or Filch happens along. "I'll make up some excuse like; you went to check a complaint that the water in the prefect's bath was a smidge too cool for extended, er.. _activity_ of the erotic kind. "

The students that aren't diving under their desks to hide from the impending explosion are rolling around in side-splitting laughter.

McGonagal is gaping at me as if I've lost all sense of reason, let alone propriety. Now, I'll admit I have far less regard for propriety than what I did before the 'incident'. I guess there is some sort of macabre sensuality regarding the whole vampire phenomena, or maybe it just lowers the inhibitions.

Anyway, I like the new me and I especially like the gapping look on McGonagal's face.

She's finally able to formulate a rational response which is a chilly.. "To the headmaster's office at once, Mr. Potter!"

"Awe, but can't it wait until after class? Today was human transfiguration and I've been practicing all week." I plead with her, giving her a wounded puppy look.

I know she'd intrigued as none of the students had managed so much as a single limb transformation thus far.

"V-Very well... but make it quick, Mr. Potter. Let's see your transformation then?" She grants hesitantly, too curious for her own good.

I pounce on the offer and yell out... "Heads up, Weasley!"

Huh,.. what?" Ron's just thick enough to poke his head up curiously, giving me a clear shot and I hit him with a quick _transmuto_ and Viola- instant "A Weaslepig!", I happily announce. "The body of a pig with a weasle's brain."

Ron's snorting around the room looking for a chicken to thieve while everyone's laughing uproariously.

"The headmaster this instant, Mr. Potter!" McGonagal shrieks pointing toward her door as she pulls her wand to try and reverse the damage.

'Tries' is the operative word here as I've taken the liberty of locking the transformation with an added wand twist of my own devise.

I make the trek to the aged one and realizing I don't have the password for the gargoyle guarding his doorway, I offer humbly.. "I've been bad... again."

The gargoyle steps aside glaring at me which is no small feat for a stone gargoyle, but he manages to pull it off.

The spiral staircase, a good solid knock or two on the door and I'm standing in supplication before his decrepit-ness.

I answer Dumbles questioning look. "I've been bad... again." I offer in afterthought, trying my best to look sheepish and failing.

Dumbledore rolls his eyes as he rubs his forehead wearily, too afraid to ask and too curious not too.

"And... what does "Bad" entail, Mr. Potter?"

I smirk as I answer facetiously. "Wait for it?"

It's only a scant, pensive moment or two before Snape sneers his way into the office followed by an outraged McGonagal.

Both shove me out of the way as they loom over the headmaster vying for first dibs on my hide.

I've a rather skinny backside so I can understand their not wanting to wait for what's left over after their counterpart chews me up and spits me out.

Dumbledore raises a hand calling for quiet and they desist. He shoots me a weary glare and glances toward the door to his office meaningfully.

I shrug and offer a lame... "I think they're the only two complainants, but one can never be sure."

_Sirius would be so proud of me had he lived._

With Dumbledore's cue to proceed, Snape offers his own colorized version of grievance from a very slanted point of view.

Dumbledore shifts his attention to me periodically during the diatribe trying to judge the validity of Snape's many complaints.

Once Snape is at last, finally thru, his Dumbleship nods for Minerva McGonagal to state her complaint. Of which _'I'm tardy and did a human transfiguration on another student without said student's consent and while, exemplary work'_, at this I beam my agreement, '_I used a unique form of locking charm that defies even her ability to reverse the transformation'._

Dumbledore being, well Dumbledore; merely raises and intrigued eyebrow and asks her to clarify.

She tell him what I did that was.. "bad".

To which Snape snorts appreciatively and at least has the good manners to ignore Dumbledore's glare to desist.

Now, I've never got on with Snape, but at least I can side with someone who appreciates a good prank.

Ignoring Snape's ignoring him,.._is that the way to say it?_ Anyway,... Dumbledore fixes an eye on me and asks "Harry?"

_Oh... what the hell_...

I fall to my knees in supplication. "I didn't do it! I'm innocent,... innocent I tell you. It's a frame up! They're all conspiring against me. Wait,... no,... I know... It's not my fault because I'm criminally insane. I belong in St Brutus'. They'll beat the crazy out of me." I even manage a few crocodile tears for effect.

Dumbledore stares blankly at me while McGonagal is again gapping as if I've lost all reason. At least Snape gets the routine and laughs, actually laughs, appreciatively.

Snape's starting to grow on me. I still have to kill him, of course, but now I'm tempted to do it quick so that he doesn't suffer.

Un-amused, Dumbledore renders his decision. "You will reverse the spell you placed on Mr. Weasley. Gryffindor forfeits twenty-five points and you must serve detention with Professor Snape tonight."

"No..." I gasp in dread revulsion, my eyes as big as saucers,(_at least I think they are_).

"Not that? Anything, but that?" I plead, groveling for effect. "His hands are ice cold and he doesn't even wash between boys!" I shudder for effect.

"Last time he made me slow dance with him. The Horror...THE HORROR!" I shriek in terror, seizing the opportunity to flee from the room whimpering like a trauma victim as I bolt down the spiral staircase and scream unintelligibly while running down the hallway in panic.

I have to admit,... I'm good when I wanna be. Dumbles and company were so utterly shocked by my display that none even thought to try and stop my escape.

Snape, the git, he looked so absolutely mortified that it was all I could do not to break down in gut wrenching laughter.

Like I said,.. I'm good.

Well, since I've got some unexpected free time, I may as well use it wisely. I figure I've got about ten to twelve minutes before the Great Bat recovers enough to scurry back to his dungeon hole to prepare for my eventual detention, despite my best efforts to the contrary. I never really expected to get out of anything, I just couldn't think of a better way to get Snape out of his pit long enough to arrange a little surprise for him.

See, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress, ask anyone? The moment Daphne started pleading her case, the wheels started to click. Draco's nothing. I can deal with him anytime. I first need to get Snape out of the picture. Draco's made enough enemies over the years that with his protector out of the picture, it'll be open season on the git. I won't even have to do anything, ( though we all still know I will), as everyone will want a piece of Draco payback.

_Hmm, I suppose I could turn Ron back. He'll want dibs on Malfoy and who knows; maybe he'll land in a detention or two for his trouble?_

I finish my musings, having arrived at heir Snape's "laboratory". Briefly I consider the direct approach,.. or the indirect approach? _Hmm, decisions... decisions...?_

_Why not both?_

I make my way to the cleaning sinks in the back and sure enough! Snape's already planning for my personal enjoyment. The git has a whole stack of filthy cauldrons put aside for yours truly.

I find the filthiest, God awful one of the whole bunch and cast my spell on the night black gunk covering the bottom with surgical precision. A few well placed charms and 'instant blackface' in a bowl. Bless Lavender Brown for her cosmetic charm brilliance, not to mention- vanity.

I'm an artist... a true prodigy of mayhem.

Now to set the stage for Snape's downfall.

* * *

><p>I'm waiting patiently in McGonagal's private office. I know the lady. She has a soft spot for all things Gryffindor and a genuine dislike of Snape that I need to shed more doubt upon.<p>

I whip up some tears by hitting myself in the face with a wandless '_stinging hex' _. It stings like the devil , but I'm a stickler for authenticity.

My eyes and nose are watering something awful and by the heated stinging sensation; I know my face is as red and blotchy as all get out.

McGonagal enters her room to find me mewling in a fetal position in the corner of her office. I beg and plead with her to commute my sentence, hiccupping through my manufactured tears. She doesn't hesitate in her compassion, partially because of my dead parents, partly because she's never seen me cry before and I've no doubt it's a humbling experience the way I'm spreading it on.

She won't budge on the detention as it's on the Headmaster's direct orders, but she adamantly promises me that she will check on my welfare during said detention, to appease my unfounded fears. I can tell by the worried look in her eyes that I've managed to plant the seeds of doubt which was half my intention.

I play the morose, but grateful bit and snuffling forlornly; I make my exit with a defeated slump to my shoulders, casting back a wounded puppy expression as I stammer my reluctant thanks and depart, leaving the poor women in consternation, if not growing alarm.

I attend the last minutes of supper and make a show of worriedly pushing the food around my plate as I cast doleful eyes toward the headmaster, silently begging his mercy. I'm starving, but I can always feast after the slaughter. Its ten minutes till seven when I push my plate away with a defeated sigh and slump dejectedly toward my impending doom.

Snape's waiting with his triumphant sneer in place as I enter the dungeon potion's lab.

He points out the waiting cauldrons and instructs me to clean all of them- without magic, _predictable,_ as he hovers over me insulting my parents, my Godfather, myself, Gryffindors ect...

Sensing the time is right, I pull the waiting catastrophe of a cauldron into my chapped and bleeding hands and make a show of trying vainly to remove the offending crud from the bottom.

After a grunt of strain and no results I sheepishly offer the cauldron up for Snape's inspection claiming innocently.. "I can't get this out."

He seizes the cauldron and peers into its depths grumbling about what a pathetic weakling I am.

My prank goes off as planned with an almighty **bang**, that rocks the room and alerts anyone nearby the classroom.

The Professor is still shaking the stars out of his eyes and fails to notice he's covered in sinister black make up, painted red lips and a matching red bow pulling back his greasy strands into a pony tail. The outfit's complete with a rubber corset and knee high boots over tight black leather pants and a whip ready to hand.

"No!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "Don't please,.. I'll be good...I'll be good!"

"Why you miserable brat!" the man seethes, throwing away the offending cauldron. He whips out his wand to rain hexes down on me, but falters when his eyes alight on the whip provided for his outfit.

Snape's eyes gleam malevolently as he grabs up the whip and pronounces that I've _'provided my own punishment and fitting one it is'._

A quick flick of his wand and he _silences_ the door and applies several _locking charms_.

It's all I can do to feign terror instead of bob up and down on the balls of my feet in anticipation.

"N-No...please..."I beg, backing away from the infuriated man, pretending to be terrified. I cast my eyes toward the door to the hall, pretending to seek escape and he grins delightedly when I start to tear up in horror over my impending plight.

Despite the silencing charms I can see the door vibrating and know someone is either pounding or throwing hexes at the door trying to break in.

Snape goes a step farther and seals his fate by casting the _loco mortis_ _charm _which hoists me upside down in the air like a piñata.

Another quick flick to shred my clothes from my back and the man sets to work.

_Merlin...Oh, sorry, my bad... Christ! That stings like the devil !_

At least he's thoroughly enjoying himself when the door crashes inwards and an enraged McGonagal storms into the room.

"Minerva.. wha..?" Snape barely registers his surprise before he's trussed up like a pig for market and silenced before he can say a word in his own defense.

Despite my vantage point; I can see dawning realization spread through the man's face as his jaw works silently in outrage over his own stupidity.

McGonagal casts a quick _"Finite",_ lowering me gently to the floor where I pull myself into a ball whimpering and mewling as I shudder, (_in glee_), over my apparent plight, (_good fortune_).

She pulls me reluctantly into her arms , cooing gently and reassuringly to me and it's all I can do not to break down in unending laughter as I can see the absolute rage, warring with fright in Snape's eyes as the full ramifications of what I've set up here comes to fruition.

Like I said before the man's evil and though this may not get him the death he richly deserves for the lives he's undoubtedly had a hand in taking, I've at least effectively removed him permanently from harming other students.

One down and one to go. _Oh, Draco..._


	2. Chapter 2: One downone to go

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Half Alive/Half Dead**

**Chapter Two: One down one to go**

Now don't get me wrong; Snape wasn't quite as easy as I thought, nothing ever is in Potter World.

There was fallout to be sure and heading it all was... you guessed it; everyone's favorite champion of second, third and fourth chances: Albus, (I'll screw you over for the greater good), Dumbledore.

So here I am bright and early next morning, (a school morning, mind),sitting in front of the lemon drop sucking old goat as he's giving me one of his patented 'disappointed looks'.

I haven't the heart to tell him they stopped working on me after Sirius died. You'd think he'd of figured that out on his own after I trashed his office.

"Can we get on with this? Otherwise, I'll be late for Charms which means I'll be sitting here again at lunch reporting the usual... "I've been bad." Not that I don't so enjoy our little chats, or should I say how you tell me your disappointed and that I should be the bigger man and let everyone else screw me over because they know what's best."

The old man steeple's his fingers and changes to his 'long suffering, withering glare'. He's really not pulling punches this morning. I guess I should've seen this coming; what with his pet being taken away by aurors last night and McGonagal reaming him up one side and down the other as they did so.

Funny how things work out? McGonagal bustles me off to the infirmary where Pomfrey dumps enough potions down my throat to cause a coma, yet I'm accused of the condition Snape was _supposedly_ in when the aurors hauled him away?

Like out of the newly graduated class of aurors there's not the possibility that one or more might have a grudge or two against his Snapiness?

Personally, I think McGonagal had a go at him before they even picked him up. That temper on her is a thing of beauty.

Anyway, Snape had a broken jaw and nose, various lacerations, contusions, and interestingly enough: ruptured testicles.

Now I'd like to claim credit, I really would, especially for that last bit, _alas... missed opportunities._

I can't take it anymore, he's breaking me... "What already?" I seethe at the lemon drooling idiot.

"I require you to drop all charges against Professor Snape and formally apologize in front of the entire school for the humility of his subsequent arrest. Furthermore, for his mistreatment I think a round two hundred points and a month of detention with Mr. Filch is in order."

_Wow, he said all that with a straight face,... and I thought I was a good actor. _

I suspected and now I know: Lemon drops cause dementia.

Sighing, I fix him with a spot on imitation of his own 'disappointed look'.

_I know it's perfect cause I practiced it in the mirror._

I casually reach for a quill and a bit of parchment and right down a figure off the top of my head and purposely slid it forward for his consideration.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs indignantly at the number I've written down. "Surely you don't think you're going to extort a million galleons from this school to purchase Professor Snape's freedom on these ridiculous charges that you and I both know you framed him for?"

I pull a surprised look of my own at that. "You misunderstand." I correct with cool disdain. "I expect you to kiss my arse a **million **times before I even consider what it is I'll except in return for your trying to harass me into dropping valid charges against a contemptible swine who misused his position of authority to bugger and torture a student in his charge.

Dumbledore's benign facial expression turns to one of cold fury as he proceeds to threaten me. "How dare you? I'll have every charge thrown out before they even go to trail and then I'll have you serving each and every one of the aforementioned detentions with Professor Snape. I myself will personally lock you in the dungeon with him, so he may take his pleasure, and cast the _silencing cha_rms to boot!"

_I think I've struck a nerve?_

"I assume you're relying not only on your position of authority as headmaster in this instance, but also that of Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot?" I ask with feigned trepidation and worried eyes.

Dumbles glowers at me. "You assume correctly." he sneers in contempt, his eyes twinkling victoriously.

_It's a shame it had to end this way._ Is one fleeting consideration.

Another, more pertinent one is... _WOO-HOO! This is gonna be fun_.

Clearing my throat meaningfully I offer... "I choose option B."

Now,.. it was either something in my voice, or perhaps my casual attitude, but Dumbles obviously smells a rat and has the good manners to at least look curious rather than dismissing me out of hand.

I draw the memory of this interesting office visit from my temple and place it in a waiting crystal vial that I've extracted from my robes. Like a flash Dumbledore's wand is in his hand ,.but it's already too late. It was already too late the moment he made his boasts and threats, but I'll come back to that.

_Did I mention that my already heightened reflexes are even more so since the change? _

Dumbledore casts a beaut of a _vanisher_ at the vial, or should I say where it was a split second ago.

In the old man's defense, I have to admit I barely got my empty hand out of the way in time as I threw the vial out his office window.

Anyway...

"Why on earth did you destroy you're only evidence of this meeting?" The old man asks completely stumped by my actions, surmising.. " It couldn't possibly survive the impact with the courtyard below?"

I smirk knowingly. "Did you hear the vial shatter, cause I didn't?"

The old man bursts to the open window with a speed I'd not thought he was capable of; little good it did him.

"Hedwig is a loyal and true friend, unlike many the wizarding world offers. She is currently on her way to deliver said memory to a waiting Madam Bones."

Dumbledore yells out to "Fawkes...!"

My smile broadens. "Don't bother; he and I have had an understanding. He gave me the benefit of the doubt and was listening in outside the window with Hedwig. Once you made your threats , I'm sure he decided you were not the servant of the light you pretend yourself to be. I suspect he is currently seeking other more suitable employment?"

Dumbledore goggles at me, before he eyes his private floo in a last desperate attempt to intercept Hedwig at the Ministry before she can deliver her damning evidence.

"Won't matter." I caution. "I already forewarned Madam Bones yesterday that I'd be forwarding more evidence of a _sensitive nature _this morning. I instructed her to view the memory Hedwig delivers should I fail to contact her within the hour."

At this, I pull the micro tape recording device I've hidden within my robes.

He eyes the object curiously. "What's that?" his curiosity outweighs the dire circumstances.

"Insurance" I proceed to tell him what a tape recorder is and does and how I spent my spare time working out how to get around the magical interference of Hogwarts on electronic devices.

He fingers his wand.

I smile in cold victory.

"You might possibly be faster than me, but I wouldn't count on it. Either way, you've lost as I've less than a minute to warn off Madam Bones." I remind him that the clock's ticking on both his reputation and freedom for that matter.

Dumbledore slumps wearily in defeat. "What do you want, Harry?" he asks dejectedly.

First things first.

I sashay over to his floo and motion questioningly if I might use it?

He waves me off, like he actually has a choice.

I place my call to Madam Bones and pass the tape through before Dumbles can even shriek his dismay. I then politely ask her to standby another five minutes and return to finish matters with my new ally, or should I say, whipping boy?

"You've become far too predictable, Headmaster. It's for this very reason that I intend to be lenient. Snape is gone, history,.. get used to it. He was never your man and never would be. Rather than spend his life in Azkaban's fine establishment, he will pay a million galleon fine that will serve as an endowment fund to further the independent education of aspiring Potion Masters whom Snape ruined their pursuit of thru his negligent teachings, and to provide scholarships for those that he has yet to disillusion. The fine itself should ruin him, forcing him to rely on others. His teaching credentials are forfeit. He may never again step foot in Hogwarts or any other institution of learning. Those two requirements fulfilled and I'll drop all charges. He will be free to return to his true master as only Voldemort would stoop so low as to have him. He proved that by accepting Pettigrew."

"Y-You could have him in Azkaban for life. Why so generous?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.

I smile a cold calculating smile that I can see has it's desired affect on the old man. "Because I fully intend to meet him on the field of battle, one day, where I fully intend to make sure he gets exactly what he deserves."

Dumbledore shudders at that. "A-And me... what is the price of my cooperation?"

"You are exactly where you need to be and in the capacity you were meant to serve, however...?" at this the old man begins to tremble in trepidation.

I almost feel sorry for him,... almost. "You will use your position within the Wizengamot to call for a vote of 'no confidence' against our beloved minister and in his place recommend Madam Bones, leaving Fudge free to return to his true master and eventually meet with Snape's own impending fate."

"Fudge a Death Eater? Preposterous!" Dumbledore scoffs in disbelief.

"Surely even you're not gullible enough to believe he's actually that stupidly naïve? The man reeks of corruption and I don't mean the usual political kind. He turns Death Eaters loose for a price that then subsequently disappears from the ministry coffers and never even shows up in his private accounts. Where does it go,.. I wonder?" I suggest facetiously. " His policy of deniability has done more to foster Voldemort's cause that any three of the previous bunglers did combined. He's closest supporters are known inner circle members. Wake up you fool!" I bellow in the old man's face as he still looks astounded by his own blind gullibility.

"If he's not a Death Eater than he's their biggest sympathizer and supporter! Either way, the point is moot. You'll do as I've asked or you will suffer the consequences of your own abuse of power by trying to extort ,harass and coerce me."

"So I'm to be your puppet then?" he snarls angrily, all the while I can see his eyes and know the wheels are turning as he's desperate to find a way out of the iron cell I've locked him in.

"Puppet, no." I reassure him. "But just so we're clear? We aren't friends you and I. Not buddies, nor even comrades in arms. You and your precious 'Order of the Chicken' can go pack sand! All you've managed to do is get them killed when they aren't serving as my jailors. You and your dupes managed to ruin my life long ago and have the gall to think I'll actually allow you to continue to do it?" I thunder at him and am rewarded with him wincing in dismay.

I collect myself. "Your interference in my life is done, not that there's anything more you can do to me? My friends disappeared like leaves in the wind once I was bitten. If they were ever truly my friends and not some well placed sycophants by yourself?"

He begins to bluster and try to reassure, but I cut him off. "Ironic, isn't it? Myself and Voldemort? Both half bloods pitted against each other over an issue of pure blood supremacy. He's not even human anymore. Yet he's treated like a god amongst wizards, both light and dark. I'm still fully human, but now am treated like a second class citizen, lower than the lowest werewolf. My family is dead. My friends abandoned me, teachers ignore me and yet I'm expected to fight in everyone's behalf?"

"B-But, Harry,... It's for the greater..." Dumbledore struggles to intervene, but I cut him off.

"For the greater good? Yes,.. I know." I sigh disappointedly as I conjecture further. "But whose good, certainly not mine? Merlin knows, and yes, I said Merlin!" I restate at seeing his wince of displeasure.

"I can say as I wish, regardless of what's considered appropriate amongst wand wavers for someone of **my** low standing. The next idiot, or idiots, that try to make an issue of it with me are going to be the subject of Madam Pomfrey's next medical journal mystery."

I pause to gather my thoughts. "Where was I,.. ah yes... Honestly, I don't see a reason to fight Voldemort or his death goons? What reason have I?"

"To have a life of your own, free of Voldemort and his murderers. You could have your pick of careers? A family of your own!" Dumbledore immediately started waving his banner in my face.

I laugh hollowly at that. "What a bastard you are. We both know I was to be your sacrificial goat. A career, a family? Don't make me laugh. No one's going to hire me. They're all afraid I'm going to turn into a bat and drink their blood or some such revolting notion." I wave off disgustedly.

As for a family; The Weasley's disproved that notion,... rather i_ntensely_ so." I rub my jaw pointedly. I can see by his look of displeasure that he's acutely aware of what the Weasley boys did to me and why.

"I can see you're aware of the Weasley boys' intervention. Did you suggest it?" I accuse him.

Dumble's snorts disdainfully at that as he scoffs an affronted, "Certainly not!"

"You condoned it then." I nod knowingly an am at least vindicated in that he doesn't argue the point, though he does at least have the common courtesy to look ashamed.

"In that; you and Hermione have something in common. Whilst she may not have approved, still she ultimately sided with Ron over me. The mind knows only what the heart tells it."

Dumbledore nods dejectedly at the wisdom of my statement.

At length, I clap my hands together expectantly and announce. "Well, I'm done here. Do as I ask, maintain a professional decorum and you and I will get along famously." I suggest, adding.. "Just so you know... I intend to be 'bad'. Nothing to drastic, just a bit off unfinished business between me and mister 'I'm gonna tell my dad on you, Malfoy'."

"Harry...?" Dumbles begins warningly.

I feign delighted surprise. "Oh, are we on a first name basis?"

Dumbles slumps, recognizing the sarcasm I lace my voice with.

"Stay out of it. For once Draco's going to have something to complain to daddy about the whinny little bed wetter. Hey,... now that's an idea?" I snap my fingers delightedly and dance out of the office before the old 'spoil sport' can complain anymore.

* * *

><p>My first class is a wash, so I use what time remains to get a leg up on a little extracurricular activity and adjourn to the library to check a few minor healing spells.<p>

_Viola! Just the thing_.

I happen across a charm that simulates a warm moist compress to alleviate joint pain.

The rest of the day goes by tediously slow other than a few acknowledged compliments in my having dealt with Snape. No one really has any inkling of the particulars other than I was involved and Snape was arrested.

Curfew and lights out at last.

I disillusion myself and take a walk down to the Slytherin House. I could use dad's cloak but this way's faster and less cumbersome. Besides, Filch's cat likes me now. It's either the catnip or the mesmerizing,.. maybe even both?

Did I mention that I can mesmerize others to obey my will? No,.. well, I can't, at least not yet. People are still a little difficult, but I've managed to successfully plant a suggestion or two. Animals though? Animals are quite easy to control, which explains Voldemort's hold on the Death Eaters**.**

Anyway, a little suggestion or two that I'm irresistible and a bit of cat nip to seal the deal and Mrs. Norris is eating out of my hand-literally.

Slytherin House is well hidden behind the portrait of Slytherin himself- very stealthy that. Now I don't have a password, but given I'm a "parselmouth", it's an automatic free pass for all things Slytherin.

I make my way through the sleeping dorms to the sixth year boys, Merlin, you can almost smell the teenage hormones in the air.

Once located, I make my way to the ponce's bedside. It wasn't hard to figure which was his; it was the one with the candle for a nightlight glowing on the bedside table.

Cautiously I pull back his bed curtains and.. _Oh, God.. I'm gonna be sick! My eyes- they Burn!_

_Draco and Pansy Parkinson are locked in what could only be described as a scene from 'Old MacDonald's Farm'- the uncut version._

I stuff my hand in my mouth to stifle my gags while walking back and forth to shake off the he-be-gee-bees.

I'm still seeing spots before my eyes, but at least the urge to vomit has passed. I cast the charm I learned for the occasion over Draco's exposed hands. It should simulate warm water to its desired effect. I was about to leave when an inspired bit of deviousness hits and I decide to take things a step farther.

_I know, big surprise, right?_

I use my limited mesmerizing skills to plant an image in Draco's mind. Congratulations Draco, your now subconsciously obsessed with Hermione Granger. A few added touches and a nice, er,.. _romantic_ dream begins.

My work is done for the night, so I decide I've earned myself a snack and head for the kitchens.

I eagerly await the spectacle at breakfast the next morning, so I make sure I'm early so I can get a good seat. Gryffindors be damned, I'll sit where I like. I hope Ron cocks off about it 'cause I'm in just that kind of mood today.

People are filing in all bleary eyed and famished. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long as Pansy stomps in all in a huff with Draco hot on her heels pleading and apologizing.

I can tell by the snickers around the Slytherin table that I was successful to a degree, the question is; how successful?

My answer comes by proxy when Hermione enters the Great Hall with Ron in tow like the good lap dog he is.

Pansy's just beginning to give in to Draco's pleas when he's suddenly distracted. His eyes shift toward Hermione and follow her every move.

Hermione stops in front of my view, deciding uncertainly if he should assume the seat in front of me and I'm forced to peer around her hip whilst she deliberates.

"Aren't you in the wrong spot?" Ron sneers, summoning what passes for Gryffindor courage for a wealepig. _I get Pettigrew more and more._

"Shut up, Ron." I shoot back, not bothering to favor him with a glance. "I'm working here and you're spoiling the view."

Between his outrage that I'm not immediately cowed by his challenging presence and his curiosity, he manages to turn in the direction of my gaze to catch Draco leering at his girlfriend's backside.

"Oiy!" he cries out in outrage, not that he need bother as Pansy elbows Draco a good one in the eye, sending the ponce spinning to the floor.

Ron bursts into laughter, as does the most of the rest of the Hall, including the Slytherin table.

Pansy snorts haughtily and kicks out at Draco's fallen form for good measure. Now, I can't tell from my vantage point, but I'm guessing by the way he shrieks that she's managed to hit something sensitive.

Piteous groans follow which concludes this morning's entertainment. Ah.. it was a good show, but all too brief. I give it three stars out of a possible four.

I return to the last vestiges of my meal, pleased to see that Hermione has temporarily overcome her trepidation, not that I'm entertaining any notions of reconciliation.

Ron finishes his caterwauling and turns to begin his ten minute mass consumption campaign. He's about to slide in next to Hermione when he notices my presence and his lips curl distastefully.

"Listen Potter..." he begins in a huff, intending to lay down the law.

Now, since the change, my reflexes are very sensitive and sometimes they go off at a moment's notice. Anyway,.. my leg spasms and sends the git's chair rocketing into his er,.. _sensitive areas _with all my vampiric enhanced strength behind it.

"Urkkk, achhh Gaaa!" Ron stumbles about, bent at the waist with his hands buried between his legs.

I don't know what he's about as I've seen him shower and it'll take more than two hands to locate that lost treasure.

_Say kids: What do Ron's table manners and his sexual prowess have in common?_

_Anyone..? Anyone at all?_

_Beep!_

_Time's up. The answer is: Both are non-existent._

"The Headmaster's office, Mr. Potter." McGonagal demands from behind.

"What again?" I continue to complain. "But I was just there last evening."

"At once, ." she points me toward the door, stamping her foot impatiently.

So here I am.. gargoyle, spiral staircase, knock, enter... "I've been bad."

Dumbledore peers over the rims of his glasses with his patented disappointed look.

_Aw, no,.. not the grandfather approach?_ I cringe instictively.

"Harry, Harry... whatever am I to do with you?" he asks in his fond, but long suffering way.

I snap my fingers and offer in revelation. "How about a Sexual Self Awareness Club. We could call it H.A.R.R.Y. after its founder and president. It'll stand for..'Hogwarts Awareness of Relationship Responsibilities and You'."

Dumbledore's eyebrow's have disappeared into his hairline which is no mean feat as his hairline is well receded.

"Leave, Mr. Potter" he demands drolly, all pretence of congeniality gone.

"So,.. you'll get back to me on when we can start the club?" I ask, rising from my seat.

"Out, Mr. Potter" he demands impatiently.

"No lemon drop for the road?" I ask hopefully at the doorway, which I just manage to get thru before the entire candy dish hits it and shatters.

He may be old, but his aim is dead on.

Undaunted I pursue my dream and use my library time that evening to draw up flyers advertising H.A.R.R.Y. with endorsements for this week's guest speakers.

_**Draco Malfoy**__ will discuss the '__**Do- Nots'**__ of relationships- Learn the warning signs from the _e_xperience of a noted expert in interpersonal failure__**.**_

_**Albus Dumbledore **__will present his renowned__lecture series titled: __**When the dust settles.**_

_The headmaster quotes: "I will discuss the joys of sex after the age of a hundred plus. Learn what I did wrong the first Hundred years!"_

I spend my night in disillusioned bliss hanging flyers with_ permanent sticking charms _as I consider next week's material. Maybe I could get McGonagal to do something on post menopause? We could call it: _**Witches who still will.**_

I'll have to pick her brain on a side lecture regarding being partnered with an animagus during intimacy? It must be something tasteful though. I insist on professionalism and propriety at all times.

I wonder if I could get Hermione to bore everyone with a purely clinical take on the mechanics.

_The possibilities... the endless possibilities._

Next morning I'm enjoying a nice bowl of soggy sugar flakes amidst gales of laughter mixed with shrieks of outrage from other quadrants.

_Ah good,.. everyone appears to notice the flyers. Now If I can just nail Dumbles down on a starting date?_

_Hmmm, Draco's late this morning...I wonder why? It couldn't have been the timed laxative charms I placed on his underwear drawer? Those aren't due to kick in until this afternoon during quidditch practice. _

I snap my fingers_. It must be the diuretics I laced his cocoa with last night. _

Between the diuretics and the wetting charms while he sleeps; Draco hasn't had a dry moment in two days, and **people** are noticing!

"Mis-ter...Pot-ter..." an exasperated voice drawls from behind.

I turn to see the object of McGonagal's distress, in the form of my flyers, waving beneath my nose. "Really professor... it's nothing personal. I was hoping you could do the witches slant on thing next week. I figure with your vast experience..."

She gasps at that before stuttering and stammering as she manages only to point me toward the exit in her mortification.

Trudging along the well worn path... Gargoyle...spiral stair...knock... enter... "I've been bad."

Dumbldore has several of my flyers scattered across the desk when I arrive, his head tilted to forward as he worries at his temples with his fingertips.

At my admonishment, he peers up wearily, shaking a flyer in my direction and demanding.. "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?"

I shrug nonplused. "You never said "no" so I took the initiative. I've been getting a lot of positive feedback and was thinking we could hold meetings Saturday nights in the Great Hall for 3rd thru 7th years, although, some of the staff could do with a bit of advanced study, as well." I suggest pointedly.

I ignore his shocked look and pull a chair over to his desk in anticipation as I chance to outline my plans. "Here's what I was thinking for the first of several lecture topics after you and Draco start us out..."

"Out-Potter-Out!" The old man shouts pointing a trembling, enraged finger toward his office door.

"Is this because I gave Draco top billing?"I ask, surprised by his negative attitude.

The man goggles at me completely dumbfounded and I'm almost ready to cheer in success of finally breaking the old manipulator. My hopes are dashed the next instant when he regains his composure.

"You will not, I repeat not be starting some asinine sex education curriculum."

"Oh, but the kids would love it." I counter, interrupting him before he can build up a head of steam. "Shame that Snape's gone as he could be our role model for "Stranger Danger". Maybe I can work out something with his probation,.. it might save a lot of young boys from ending up a milk cartons?"

_I did it...I think I really did it!_

Dumbles has turned ashen and is grabbing his chest. I've given him a heart attack!

I'm just about to stroll down ,...er I mean run for Madam Pomfrey when the old bugger gags up a lemon drop that skips across his desk.

_Damn,.. he was only choking._

It's a letdown, but I'm not disheartened as I'm undoubtedly on the right track and just haven't found the right shock to put his decrepit old system over the edge.

I'm nothing if not patient these days. Funny how all it took was a bite in the neck and social isolation to help me find my true self.

Once he's returned to his normal shade of pre-death, Dumbles lays down the law and kicks me out of his office.

I'm wondering what I'm doing wrong as he seems as eager to be rid of me as he was for me to join him in the first place. I've yet to draw a detention and Draco's still not panicked or paranoid enough for my liking.

Perhaps if I center my attention on Draco an opportunity to undermine, thwart and, or instigate a stroke for Dumbles, will present itself.

* * *

><p>Draco's looking miserable these days. His normally slicked back hair and immaculate appearance looks notably disheveled. Most of the school's available witches laugh and giggle at him behind his back, courtesy of Pansy Parkinson's wrath. The wizards openly mock the bedwetting ponce, which usually sends him scurrying away in near tears. Even Crabbe and Goyle avoid being seen with him lest he tarnish their reputation.<p>

Now that's saying something when a pair of trolls think you're beneath their contempt.

Snape's gone,.. so no one to cry to there. No bodyguards. The male population is avoiding him lest they get painted with the same brush by the female contingent.

He's humiliated, but he just hasn't suffered enough yet.

I'm momentarily distracted as Ron's shooting me that smug look again...some blokes never learn.

_Hey,... maybe I can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak? _I have an epiphany.

_A brewing I will go. A brewing I will go. Hi-Ho the merry 'o, a brewing I will go._

After two days, in which I received many compliments from the staff about my attention to detail in class, it's ready. I've successfully brewed a rather potent version of _amortentia_- the love potion.

_Hermione- you irresistible vixen you_.

Draco's dose was easy to arrange, I simple put it in that god awful cologne he practically showers in. What is that anyway; Troll pheromones?

Ron's been too full of himself lately, thus the 'two birds with one stone'. I figure I'll slip him an even more potent dose to see how miss 'prim and proper' deals with two amorous misanthropes.

I wait for Saturday morning because things tend to be more lax as there's less available staff monitoring the students. Besides, it's a Hogsmeade weekend and I figure the townsfolk could use a little cheering up what with the Voldie induced pall on everything these days.

I arrive first thing for breakfast and I've even dressed for the occasion. Now Ron, being Ron is easy all I have to do is sprinkle his intended dose of _amortentia_ over the largest, gooiest sweet roll on the tray and Weasleypig's sure to snap it up.

The clock's just going ten which means students will be lining up for Hogsmeade. Ron will, of course, have slept in which means that he and 'prissy pants' will be getting a late start of it.

The hall starts to empty, a little 'slight of hand' over the last, largest sweet roll and by the sound of the bickering down the hall; my pigeons have arrived.

Hermione eyes me warily but at least offers a half heart greeting. Ron, he just sneers and grabs up the largest sweet roll.

_Too easy, but hey, when you know the subject of your pranks like I do, there should be a few corners to cut. _

Ron stuffs the sweet roll in his gapping maw just as Draco Malfoy bolts into the dining hall on a direct intercept course for 'Mione 'o my dreams'.

Wild eyed and disheveled, Draco grabs up Hermione in a.. shall we say...overly amorous embrace.

Hermione barely gets out an "EEEP!" of utter shock as Draco's savaging her throat with kisses and pawing at her like she's the sweets counter at Honeydukes.

"Here now!" Ron bellows in outrage, ripping Draco away by a shoulder whilst Hermione stumbles away glassy eyed, trying to right her now dissheveled clothes.

"What're you...playing ...at?" Ron's initial outrage dies in his throat as his eyes glaze over. "D-Draco... you're hair... it's so...so lustrous. I must... have you." With that Ron grabs at Draco and a scuffle breaks out.

Ron's pulling and pawing at Draco, begging him to go to Hogsmeade with him, whilst Draco's trying to pull away, calling out to Hermione , professing his undying love and admiration.

Now,.. I didn't plan for this turn of events. Draco's love potion I charmed with Hermione as his intended target, whilst Ron's I merely left it open in which the potion would just normally enhance the victim's own natural attraction to the object of his or hers desires.

In Ron's case I just naturally assumed: Hermione. Though I do admit there was a 70-30 chance he'd fall for the sweet roll.

But this...? Even the marauders couldn't have, wouldn't have seen this one coming!

Draco breaks away from Ron's advances and bolts after Hermione who shrieks and makes a beeline for the exit. Ron dives over the Hufflepuff table and narrowly misses Draco, but at least manages to snag himself another sweet roll for his trouble.

A panicked Hermione shoots blindly over her shoulder at Draco, but all she manages to do is hit Dumbledore with an _impedimenta_, just as he's rising out of his chair, to put at stop to things.

_Merlin bless her. Brilliant witch that she is, she knows every hex and jinx in the book, but she can't aim worth a shite!_

The three battles their way out of the hall; wands firing, food flying, shouted threats mixed with promises of undying devotion if not out and out suggestions of wanton lust.

The place looks like they filmed a Three Stooge's marathon.

By the shrieks and shouts of alarm in the hall outside, I can tell things have progressed to a new level. I stroll to the Hall doors and peruse the spectacle.

Dean Thomas has a bloody nose and is being helped up by a very tattered Lavender Brown. Shamus Finnigan is holding his head, using the wall for support. These were obviously Hermione's 'would be' rescuers.

Argus Filch is lying in a heap on the castle steps; obviously he was trampled in the rush of students trying to avoid the melee.

I don my cloak for a sojourn into Hogsmeade as this shite is just too good to miss!

"Hem...Hem" someone clears there throat in a passable imitation of Umbitch, but I know it's not her as she's still in hiding from what I'm assuming are hallucinations ofoverly amorous centaurs lusting after her body.

I suspect they're hallucinations because centaurs show admirably more restraint than your average wizard and nobody,..I mean nobody, would sink that low.

I turn to find McGonagal waiting impatiently with her hands planted on her hips.

"What?" I ask with my most innocent expression. I know it's a winner cause, again, I've studiously practiced it in the mirror.

"You know very well, what, Mr. Potter."

I shrug helplessly, casting an eye toward my rapidly escaping chance for a pleasant afternoon's distraction.

"Come now, Mr. Potter? Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy **all **acting out of character at the same instant and I'm to believe the common denominator in this equation is not yours truly?" She snapped incredulously, tapping her foot.

I goggle in outrage at her accusations." I thought Hermione's reaction to Mr. Malfoy's overtures quite within reason. As for Draco,.. I've always thought he protested too much where Hermione's concerned and Ron; if it isn't food, its sex. Now while I admit that I'm as surprised as you that he swings that way, even so,.. I would think he could do better than Draco. Why not Pansy Parkinson for instance? He could stay in the closet for years with her on the hoof. I mean, while she's a witch she still looks and acts like a guy. An ugly one either way, but still...?" I reason out sincerely.

Strange,... I've never noticed that facial tic before? McGonagal's eyes keep going out of focus and there's this pronounced 'tic like' twitch at the side of her mouth that seems to be occurring more rapidly with increasing severity.

"O-O-Office.. Mr. Potter!" She finally manages to thunder pointing toward the stairway.

"Which one?" I ask politely for clarification.

"The headmaster's at once!" She growls pointing and twitching like a disco dancer.

"This is so unfair." I complain as I shuffle away. "I'm being persecuted. You wait til Malfoy's dad hears how you've been harassing me." I threaten. "He's a school governor, you know, even if he is in Azkaban. He'll probably hear me out just out of courtesy for not killing him at the Ministry last year."

"Now, Potter!" McGonagal shrieks.

_Merlin, can she wail!_

So here I am standing in front of the damned Gargoyle statue again. I swear the damn thing's mocking me with that smug expression.

"They think I've been bad, but I defy them to prove it." I challenge. With a sarcastic shrug of its shoulders the sentinel turns out of the way so I can proceed.

"You just wait until I'm running this joint. You'll be a fountain in the courtyard with a bunch of little duckies peeing in the water you spray out of your oversized beak and pigeons pooping on your head." The damn thing actually manages to roll its granite eyes at that.

I walk up, knock and enter as I figure Dumbledore's either just arrived or in route depending on whether McGonagal reversed Hermione's hex on him before or after she took a bite out of my arse, spoiling my well earned fun.

While I'm waiting I note the lemon drops the old bugger's always trying to force on everyone.

_Hmm, I wonder?_

I pass my hand over the bowl and do a quick _diagnostic charm_. Why that old bastard; he's got a low grade _compulsion charm_ on the drops.

On a mission, I run a quick diagnostic over the larger container he keeps ready to hand.

_Hmm,... his lemon drops have some sort of aphrodisiac in them. I wonder how many the old perv's managed to bugger over the years with this set up, not to mention the manipulations he's gotten away with,.. probably gets all randy from those too._

Easily remedied; I cast a powerful laxative charm that I like to call-_Mega Boom on the visitor's supply_, mixed with a generous amount of that self same compulsory charm with a bit more oomph to it!

I simple pour his aphrodisiac laced lemon drops into the visitor's bowl and pocket the extra... _one never knows_?

It's a solid twenty minutes later before Dumbledore sweeps in with a stuttering and stammering McGonagal in tow.

_Here we go! It's round three in tonight's title bout!_

Dumbledore seats himself and conjures one for McGonagal with a quick flick of his wand. I note it's not quite as comfortable appearing as the one he currently has his bony arse planted in.

_So much for chivalry._

He sighs, looks about to start, before absently recalling the proprieties. "Lemon drop, ?" he waves toward the dish on his desk with a hopeful expression.

"Don't mind if I do, sir." And gratefully pop a large one into my mouth and murmur my appreciation of its unique flavor.

Dumbledore looks like the cat that got the cream as I've never accepted one of his proffered sweets before, but now they really seem to have a **solidified **my resolve.

Obviously delighted, he pops one from his dish into his own mouth and proffers one to Minerva, who interestingly enough accepts.

Now ,..I've gotta wonder if she's **up** on this protocol?

"We are late, Mr. Potter, because Mister's Weasley and Malfoy were apprehended only moments ago and the aurors have taken them in for questioning. Ms. Granger is likewise detained as she has suffered a rather, er,.. _disturbing_ ordeal and is currently under Madam Pomfrey's care and heavily sedated.

"Some people just don't know when to stop teasing. You can only push young, virile men like Draco so far." I empathize. "I mean,.. he is only human after all. Ron, on the other hand, frankly, I'm appalled by his boarish behavior." I display my obvious disgust by Ron's antics.

Dumbledore's moustache visibly droops at that, whilst his eyebrows disappear. McGonagal's tic is back and quite pronounced, that and the flatus she suddenly grace's us with. Her expression is oddly pinched.

_Lord above... That's rancid! I think I overdid the laxative and then some._

Dumbledore's expression sours worse than any ten lemon drops could account for. He gags as he casts several air freshening charms. It's the fastest wand work I've ever seen.

Once the air is breathable again and McGonagal has hurriedly taken her leave. Dumbledore leans over his desk , eyes twinkling madly as he tries to read my surface thoughts. "Mr. Potter, am I to believe that you have nothing to do with the current state of , er, _affairs _between Mister's Weasley and Malfoy? There is strong evidence that a _love potion_ was used on the two young men in question, though that has yet to be determined."

_I wonder if the compulsion charms are affecting the old geezer yet?_

I pull a shocked expression. "I've absolutely nothing to do with it, sir. I'm as outraged as you are. I was trying to catch up with them to offer assistance when Professor McGonagal waylaid me with her unfounded presumptions. I'm wholly innocent and frankly, rather insulted by the accusations."

_Not to mention my shorts are uncomfortably smug just now._

Dumbledore nods his agreement. "I apologize, Mr. Potter. I should have known you would never have placed Ms. Granger in jeopardy like this. Besides,.. your academic record in Potions clearly shows that a complicated potion such as _amortentia_ is well beyond your capability, no insult intended."

_Yep,.. it's the compulsion, that and Snape's unjust grading system have exonerated me._

Seeing the opportunity to press my advantage, I graciously accept his apology and ask, (in a caring and respectful tone), after the welfare of the parties involved.

Dumbledore's compassionate and grandfatherly air is enough to make me gag. "By the time the aurors apprehended the parties causing said disturbance, they were sequestered in the Shrieking Shack and rather, er,.. well,.. let's just say, **not** **acting** themselves. I'm afraid that Ms. Granger was rather, um,.. _ill used_,.. as was Mr. Malfoy. Mr Weasley, was neither harmed nor displaying any remorse over his part in this whole sordid business. I myself, arrived quite innocently after the fact, yet received a rather stern telling off by Mrs. Malfoy, who is currently insisting that Draco be transferred to another school where muggleborns,.. er, not her exact description," Dumbledore pulled a face at that as he continued to relay Narcissa Malfoy's complaint. " where muggleborns,.. are not permitted entrance let alone to consort with pureblood wizards from good upstanding families."

I snort at that. "Which does she claim pertains to Draco?"

"Quite" Dumbledore replies in obvious agreement with my opinion. "Anyway, I'm afraid that given current circumstances, either from legal ramification and or Mrs Malfoy's insistence, we have seen the last of Mr. Malfoy within these walls." he ventures disappointedly, but with an obvious air of relief.

It's all I can do not to launch into my happy dance, but my current , er... **southern situation**, as a result of the aphrodisiac lemon drop, makes that unwise in present company. You can only hope to _compulse _someone so much before throwing caution to the wind!

"And, Ron? What's to become of him?" I ask with polite concern that's worthy of a dramatic acting award.

Dumbledore winces at that. "Molly, er,.. Mrs. Weasley arrived shortly after Ronald was apprehended. She, er,.. made quite a number of _unfounded accusations _at, er,.. _your_ expense, which I'm aggrieved to say I took entirely to heart. I, again, apologize for jumping to conclusions, Harry."

I manage to look wounded but find it within myself to forgive the Headmaster, he is only human after all, and I should respect my elders, even if they tend to gravitate toward the senile side.

We commiserate current events and find the beginning of a tentative foundation to reestablish trust between us.

The old man, er, I mean 'elder wizard',(_see- being polite_), seems wholly pleased and I know I am, if not maybe for the same reason. It could be the aphrodisiac, but I'll give it the benefit of the doubt.

Eventually I make my excuses to leave, commenting that I wish to look in on Hermione to see if there's anything I can do for her.

Dumbledore's quite pleased with that and hey, I'm nothing if not compassionate.

* * *

><p>I walk the halls to the infirmary lost in thought.<p>

_That's it for Draco and good riddance. _

However, Molly Weasley has entered my radar and that's currently not a favorable place to be.

_I can't imagine what she has to complain about, not after the beating her precious boys threw me with her obvious knowledge if not behest._

_I have bigger fish to fry and Dark Lords to kill, but really, can I not spare a few minutes to see to an old friend?_

_Besides, I find Molly Weasley's pronounced 'double standard' infuriating._

At length, I decide it's another worry for another time, and besides-_besides_, there is some credence to Molly Weasley's complaints.

_Besides- Besides... is that right? Must be, it's my own thoughts, isn't it? Er,.. I hope so._

_Enough of that, my heads starting to hurt. Besides,.. er, besides... I have Hermione to console._


	3. Chapter 3: On my radar

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Three: On my radar**

So here I am right back where I was before things started to pick up a couple of weeks prior, my how time flies when you're having fun.

It seemed like only last week the Professor Snape was glaring down at me from the teacher's dining table and Draco Malfoy was plotting my early demise.

_Hey, wait a minute, it was only last week._

Well, anyway, here I am having a spot of lunch and I'm bored. After all, you can only mess with Ron and Hermione so much before even that gets old.

I'm enjoying my second helping of red velvet cake. Yes, that's right,_ red velvet cake_. Treacle tart is no longer my fav, there's something about red velvet cake that intrigues me; it must be the blood red color.

Anyway, I'm in between fork fulls when my radar starts pinging. Did I mention I've got radar? It must be a bat thing or something; either that or I've just taken a keen interest in my playtime.

My radar goes off because Knick Knack are standing around staring stupidly again. Knick Knack is my new pet name for Crabbe and Goyle. Ever since the two lost their nurse maid, ie.. Draco Malfoy, they have been utterly lost and confused.

Why do I call them Knick Knack you may ask?

Since Malfoy's departure, they can no longer be termed his 'bookends' therefore- Knick Knack. What exactly is a knick knack?

Anyone?...Anyone at all? Come on folks, these are the easy ones.

A knick knack is an ornamental piece that has absolutely no use other than to capture the attention to amuse for a few short moments.

That's what Crabbe and Goyle have become. Without any sense of direction they're only good for a few short moments of amusement.

I probably should do something about them as their lost, spacing out sessions seem to be progressing and not only are they blocking the hallways, but they're starting to scare the younger kids.

As I'm pondering what to do with the erstwhile knick knack, frick and frack, bric-a-brac, or whatever the hell we should call them; my gaze passes over a blonde haired beauty who still owes me in my book.

I took care of Slytherin's internal problems, out of the goodness of my heart, and what's my reward? Daphne Greengrass has the audacity to tell me she owes me one and offers a handshake of appreciation; "out of public view", of course, as she has a "reputation to maintain".

Me, I've got a reputation to maintain as well. So,.. I latch onto her hand and pull her into a kiss that could be classified as an oral surgeon's consultation.

She may have been the 'Ice Queen of Slytherin' before , but now she's more of a 'Gryffindor's Rule' sort of girl,...er, "out of public view" , of course.

It's probably stupid on my part, but I've been ignoring her overtures. The whole 'handshake thing' really got my goat.

Lunch is almost over and I still don't have a plan for the day. _Come on, Harry, put that fiendish intellect to use and come up with something to get the juices flowing._

Playing with Knick Knack just doesn't do it for me right now. I'm bored, but I'm not desperate. Melting Daphne's a consideration, but again; it's just a bit too easy on the side of things and I like a challenge.

I could mess with Dumbles as I haven't been 'bad' lately?...Nah.

I know, when in doubt, go for the classics!

I rub furiously at my scar liking I'm summoning the genie of the lamp.

_Tom...Oh, Tom...?_ I call out into the psychic ether.

_Potter?..._comes Voldemort's hiss of recognition over our mind link. Odd that,.. I never really noticed before, but the git thought broadcasts in the same creepy way that he expresses himself verbally.

_Tom,...I'm bored. There's nothing going on round here just now. Got any Death Eaters on your shit list? You know,.. a few henchman type idiots that I can amuse myself dispatching?_

_Potter, your audacity amazes even me. Do but leave the old fool's protection and your life is forfeit as my soldiers are just waiting for you to make yet another classic blunder._

_Tom...gerrrr...You're b-breaking upppp,... Tom...sssss...I'm...g-going to the c-cemetery...to... peeee on ... your mom's...grave...ssss..crackle..._

_**Potter!**_ Voldemort manages to scream across our link just before I sever the connection.

Now I know Tom. He won't risk, nor bother, with coming himself, but the slight to his mother's memory is definitely going to get a reaction. I figure he'll send a couple of Death Goons just to check things out as he won't risk missing an opportunity to catch me up, no matter how slim the chance .

Hey ho, let's go!

I turn up from my plate only to have my cute little button of a nose-me, come up to a crooked, all knowing- all manipulating, nose in my business; Dumbledore.

"Have you experienced a vision, Mr. Potter?" He asks in his favorite 'concerned grandfather' voice.

_I can't help myself._

"Yes, oh my God , yes!" I screech hysterically, grabbing his boney shoulders. "I-It's Trelwaney... and... and she's...she's entering your chambers and she's not wearing anything but her coke bottle glasses!... Oh, God,.. I'm gonna be sick!" I grab my stomach and start retching.

Dean just fell off his chair laughing like a lunatic, which pleases me. Ron's turning green and looks like his lunch will soon be joining the rest of us, pleases me even more.

I manage to keep a straight face, don't ask me how.

"S-She's climbing into your bed...wait the visions clouding over... wait, no.. it's just the dust cloud rising from your sheets. There,.. it's clear now...I see... I see, well I can barely seee you-if you know what I mean? Wow,.. those glasses of hers really magnify things don't they?" I chortle.

Dumble's is gapping in 'Broken by Harry' format again. I take the opportunity to beat a hasty exit.

A quick side step and _"I'm off to see the wizard. The despicable wizard called Tom!" _

* * *

><p>I'm sitting here waiting... waiting,...<em>Get away from me pigeon! <em>

_Damn,... that's gonna stain._

I suppose I can't fault the pigeon as I am, after all, disguised as a statue. It was nothing really, a few glamours, a set of wings and a halo for good measure and Viola! I'm an angel sitting atop a granite tomb.

_The view up here's amazing. I can see for,... well, I can see pretty far. I can see a little ugly, scruffy, once a fried of the family, silver pawed rat._

I was about to pounce, but a glimmer on the far eastern side of the cemetery caught my attention. I scan, using my enhanced senses and guess what? Peter's just bait,... what a surprise? My half vampiric nostrils pick up five distinct scents including one of the pseudo rodent persuasions.

The others are under disillusionment spell and are stealthily,(or so they think), circling the perimeter and gradually moving inward.

They cast an anti apparition ward, to my obvious delight. I can see the ward go up- at ground level to a ceiling of ten feet, whereas, I'm currently about twenty feet up and enjoying the show.

Now, even I know that good entertainment comes at a price and I'm certainly willing to do my best to patronize the arts.

_What to do... what to do?_

Hmm, Peter's easy enough. A quick sleight of hand and I cast an animagus locking charm.

_Oh, Petey you really should have found a different animagus form_.

_Ah, well..._

Another quick gesture and I transform some nearby stones into a few kneazles..._hungry kneazles._

All pretenses toward discretion aside; Peter squeals in absolute terror as the kneazles streak after him with feral growls of delight.

_So long, Peter._

I can tell by the disruption of the air that two of the four take off in the direction of Peter's what... um,... feeble gibbering of resignation? Eww...why do cats always eat the heads first anyway?

The other two maintain their stations whist the two appear to be trying unsuccessfully to deny the, now enraged, kneazles their meal.

Wow,... cats really don't like giving up their spoils do they? One of the enraged beasts has latched onto, what's most probably, the disillusioned leg of a Death Beater and is tearing away with its claws.

"Urg! Gerroff, Gerroff me!" a disembodied voice shrieks in pain and fear.

Yep, a Death Beater all right and a panicking one at that.

"Hey...NOOOO!"

_Whoa... I was wrong. The kneazle's not tearing away with is claws, he's trying to get a better grip... ugh,.. that's disgusting!_

I'm guessing that's not gonna come out either?

Appears as if the other has given up on trying to deny the other kneazle's their meal, as it's too late anyway... Peter's tail went limp a few moments ago, right after his head went missing.

_The Death Eater's now watching the show provided by his , er,.. encumbered counterpart, or at least I think he is. Hey,.. so are the other two kneazles. In fact,.. they seem sorta keen on the whole prospect themselves._

_Yikes!...uh oh..._

"OMIGOD! Don't's just stand there you fool, help me? Get them off, GET THEM OFF!" A horrified, disembodied voice screams across the still cemetery.

"Reducto!" another disembodies voice shouts.

_Well,.. what're friends for? That's accommodating. _

The other was so desperate to help his friend that he hit the offending kneazle on the other Death Beater's leg with a blasting hex, course he took off his comrade's leg with it.

_Ah the screams, the screams... _Both agonized human and enraged kneazle fill the air.

So much for the disillusionment charms. The blood spraying from the first Death Beater's leg had effectively covered the two and now they stand in crimson relief against a gray tombstone riddled back ground.

_Riddled..? Hey, I made a funny!_

Anyway, the other two to the north and south cancel their dissillusionment charms as their cover is effectively blown by idiots one and two.

_Say,.. I wonder...? Those first two could be just stupid enough to be..._

"Crabbe! Goyle,.. be silent you fools!" a black clad and masked Death Beater hisses angrily.

_Yep, I was right, just stupid enough to be 'Knick Knack' seniors._

Stupid number two shrugs apologetically and stuns stupid number one; silencing his pitiful screams.

The new Death Beater angrily shoves stupid two out of the way and casts a cauterizing charm on stupid one's leg.

_Pity that... he couldn't have been far from bleeding out._

"Potter...I know you're here Potter."The third Death Beater calls out challengingly_. _"Why not come out and show that you've more courage than either your pathetic excuse for a father or the mutt?"

_Woo-Hoo, I know that oily voice and that taunting attitude._

Justice works faster than I thought as someone has already sprung Snivelus.

Now, don't get me wrong; I like a good brouhahas as much as the next teenage bloke with a chip on his shoulder, but me, call me selfish, I want Snivellus all to myself.

_What to do... What to do? _

When in doubt, or in this instance; work with what you have. Now Snivellus and company know I'm here, but haven't sent for reinforcements-yet. They can't apparate or port key away- thanks to their own unthinking ingenuity,.. but I can.

_Odd that?_

A few years back I would have loved to have the option of a venue of escape. Now... I have absolutely no intention of leaving.

The sod on the ground's not going anywhere anytime soon and Peter's certainly not. Well he is if you count in pieces.. in kneazle bellies... Well,.. you get it.

I need to get rid of stupid one and the other, possible slightly more intelligent one, than Snivellus is all mine.

_Hmm, standing in a graveyard full of statues...?_

_I'm sure you can guess what happened next?_

Some well thinking family member actually posted a pair of lion sentinels on the stairs leading to the family crypt.. _must've been a Gryffindor at heart._

_I love the irony and apparently.. so does Snivellus; who has the good grace to actually laugh out loud when the pair I charm come to animated life and set upon the unknown third of the party._

Like I said before; Snivellus is starting to grow on me and given time I could actually get to like the creep,_.. but,.. I still have to kill him, of course._

"Bravo, Potter!" he calls out appreciatively clapping his hands, still not bothering to reverse the charm.

The downed Death Beater did manage to blast one of the lions to bits with a panicked _reductor_, but that was just before the other latched onto his head in unforgiving granite jaws.

_What is it with cats and eating the heads first? I mean is it so they can then enjoy the rest of their meal in leisure or what?_

Now, the stone lion didn't actually eat the head as it doesn''t have a stomack or anything, though it did do a reasonable job of er,.. pulping said head to a state of ... um... mush?... pudding?... slightly less useful than previously?

Snivellus lazily flicks his wand spoiling the show by destroying the stone lion, not that it mattered at this point and certainly not in time to prevent the collateral damage.

Stepping back in revulsion; stupid one blundered back against a nearby tomb that just happened to be adorned with a rather fetching, and scantily robed angel.

Now,.. I'm no angel... I'm merely dressed as one, but that's not to say that I don't believe in divine intervention.

A quick flick of the wrist and a nicely placed wandless _banisher_ hits the mark and my higher power does the rest in the form of gravity.

_Ewww! Now, that is disgusting. That statue was an absolute piece of art. It's a crying shame that is. I would've thought for all his useless bulk that 'stupid one' could've broken the angel's fall enough to at least survive the fall?_

The angel's fall that is_. _

_Now I don't want to get into all the gory details, but it went something like this?_

Screech!( sound of stone grinding against stone)

"Huh?" (Stupid one earning his moniker by looking up in question only to stare dumbly at his impending fate)

"Look out you fool!"( Snivellus actually bothering to warn the idiot of his impending fate)

"Aiiyeee!": (Stupid one's wheels start clicking and now realizes his impending fate)

**Thunk-Splurt,**(the sound made by a heavy stone falling on something squishy)

"Urk..." ( Stupid one succumbing to his fate)

**Thunk! "Arggg, damn you, Potter!"** Remember that harp I said I was holding as part of my disguise?

Snivellus is stumbling around cursing whilst trying to staunch the flow of blood from his lacerated scalp whilst I'm laughing so hard I actually fell off my perch atop the tomb.

Thankfully, a hard impact tends to take the humor out of most things and I manage to recover before Snivellus does.

Anyway,.. he's trying to hit his scalp with healing charms and missing.. most likely because they're sliding off all the grease.

I decide to give him a bit more to occupy his time?

Taking a leaf out of Hermione's page from first year,... I set the greasy git's robes on fire with a well aimed _incendio_, not that it was much of an effort as Snivellus was so preoccupied that I just waltzed up behind him and fired- literally!

Instantly, Snivellus foregoes his damaged pate and concentrates on the more immediate threat- _imagine that_- and douses the flames with an overpowered _water charm_.

So,.. I, of course, use the opportunity of his distraction to hit him in the head with a second year cutting hex that start things bleeding again- _better.. a lot better_.

Though, I must admit, that does depend on one's view point as clearly.. Snape is not amused!

_Ah, the smell of tangy copper fills my senses!_

"Urg! Potter...you contemptible brat!" Snape screams impotently, like the contemptible bully he is, as he dances around shooting hexes wildly one second and trying to heal his scalp the next.

Taking pity... I want to help.. I really do. Now I don't have a mirror handy so that he can see his scalp and effectively heal the right spot,.. er,.. spots.

My aim wasn't perfect at closer inspection.

Anyway, no mirror, so I decide on the next best thing and freeze the water he splashed all over putting out his flaming robes.

_Honestly.. the ingratitude of some people? _

Here I give him a perfectly good reflective surface to use and what does he do? He pirouettes through the air and manages to impale himself on one of those pointy little flag poles they put on fallen soldier's graves, his wand flinging from his hand on impact.

_Even in death a soldier still fights the good fight giving his all for his country_. I can appreciate the irony even if Snivellus can't at the moment.

"Ughh,.. gaa...n-nooo..!" Snape's initial shock and scream of pain lessens to labored gasping as he struggles to draw breath.

Now,.. I'm no doctor, but that sounds like a punctured lung to me?

"H-Help me...P-Potter...P-P-Puu...lease." Snape manages to beg, flailing uselessly like a big bug stuck on a pin, his blood stained hand reaching out to me beseechingly.

"Oh.. alright." I mumble, taking pity on the poor sod.

A quick flick of the wrist and I seal the wound on his head. Another flick and his burns are relieved by a nice cooling charm.

I kneel down and pull him off the pole he's managed to impale his useless self on.

"No...ahhh!" his initial terror replaced by instant relief as I pull the stake from his back,.. D_amn that was in deep!_

Still he looks worse for wear?

_Hmmm,.. I know! He must be thirsty?_

I conjure a cup and tip the life giving liquid down the former professor's gullet, ignoring his alarmed protestations as he's obviously panicking in error.

"Here you go professor, this'll have you feeling better." I chortle as I pour all twelve ounces of _water_ down the ungrateful man's throat.

_Why is it coming out the hole in his back like some muggle cartoon? Any why is he turning blue like that?_

_Now, I'm the one who's panicking._

Snape's clawing at the air and gurgling unintelligibly.

The only thing I can think to do is Heimlich maneuver to try and get the water out before he suffocates.

First... ask his permission... check- _he seems sincerely desperate for me to help._

I position my knees on each side of his body...check- _bony arse that_.

Er... position my hands above the navel...but.. but something...?

CRUNCH!

_Damn,.. __**but**__ below the **xyphoid process**._

_Now I remember?_ I berate myself, cursing silently

I think I've made things worse? Snape's breathing turned to a high pitch whistle just before he passed out into unconsciousness.

There's only one thing for it.. CPR.

_Ewww, I have to put my lips on... Oh for the love of all that's..._

_Alright, Harry,.. you can do this. _I coach myself.

_Lemmesee... two quick breaths...Damn the air's not going in...no chest rise._

I try again- repositioning_... Still nothing... _

Again_... Damn-it-all! The air's coming out his back?_

I grab the first thing that comes to hand to try and plug the hole: Snape's wand.

_It fits perfect! _

Just to make sure it's plugged good and tight, I give the pommel a good smack to wedge it in there..

_Uh oh? _By the sparks that come flying out of Snivellus's mouth, I'd say that his wand was compatible with me and I just did some accidental magic.

That, and I've managed to sear his already damaged lungs to a crisp.

_Awe comeon... I'm trying here?_

Snape's eyes glaze over...

"Poor Judd is dead... poor Judd Fry is dead. He's looking all so greasy and so green!" _They should make a magical version of "Oklahoma"._

Well, there's nothing I can do for poor Judd, er, I mean Snivellus,.. um, S-Snape.

_Hey,.. I'm trying to show a little remorse here, if not out and out respect for the dead._ _I'm trying,.. really I am._

_Well, the least I can do to honor his memory is show a little mercy and save his cohort, despicable swine that he is.. er.. Stop that- bad, Harry- bad!_

Stupid Two is right where everyone left him.

_Where's he gonna go with one leg and being unconscious, after all?_

_Stop that!_

_Hmm, he's breathing and the leg isn't bleeding, but he's awfully pale?_

_I better send him back to his own so that he can get the proper care._

I'm on a mission now and mercy's my middle name. I quickly summon bandages for wrapping up his wounded leg and cast a numbing charm for the pain. The poor sod's robes are drenched with blood so I cast a charm that I know will get rid of the mess in its entirety.

Now to remove those pesky anti-port key wards.

Rub-Rub- Rub...I set to work on my curse scar again.

_T-Tom..? Urggg... y-you bastard! I… Oh, God,.. I..I t-think I'm dying! At least I got the bastard that killed me... B-Blew his leg right off... t-the pain... mum? Mum... is,.. is that you,.. mum...?_

I let our link close with a note of finality just as I sense the beginnings of triumphant laughter echoing from the nether.

"Wakey- Wakey!" I kick the injured Death Beater awake- on his good leg, of course. I'm nothing if not compassionate.

I wait for his eyes to drift into focus before leveling a borrowed Death Beater wand between his eyes.

"You're mine, scum. I killed the rest, now it's your turn." I promise cruelly the tip of my wand beginning to glow a sickly shade of green.

"EEP!" the man shrieks and disappears with a loud 'POP', having activated his emergency port key.

_I wish I could see this?_ I lament not being able to visualize my surprise for Tom and company.

I know Tom and if there's one thing he likes it's to gloat. He'll want to make sure the seeds I planted have actually bared fruit, which means he'll want to verify from said wounded Death Eater that I was , in fact, dealt a killing blow?

_Wait for it, Harry. Three-Two-One! _I count down expectantly, wishing I could be there_._

**_Whoosh_**

_Yes, there is a God and wishes do come true! _

My spirits soar as the Riddle Manor in the nearby village goes up in flames when the _fiend fyre_ charm I placed on a timed activation- ignites.

_Wooo-Hooo_

I grab up a long stick and dance around merrily, the screams from inside can be heard all the way over here, some several hundreds of meters away_._

Brandishing my borrowed stick I scream out excitedly_... _"Weanies, bring me weanies!" _Merlin, I love a good roast._

POP-POP-POP-POP...

The grave yard is suddenly filling with all manner of smoldering and thoroughly pissed off- Death Eaters.

And me... I'm left holding the stick!

Interestingly enough... No one seems to notice at first. Granted, I still look like a statue of an angel , but one holding a stick?

_A fallen angel_, I suppose, _might be standing around holding his stick_.

Pop... "Arggg!"

_Uh Oh_

"Find him you fools!" Voldemort bellows, swatting at his smoldering robes, burning his hands as he does so.

I'd like to stay, I really would, but there's about .. one-two-three.. .ugh, about thirty Death Beaters and Volderarse, himself.

_Not bad odds really, but there is only the thirty of them._

Predictably, the Death Beaters fan out in haste lest the risk bringing their masters wrath down upon them by dawdling, no matter the reason,.. even to conjure a few anti- apparition wards and the like.

**Swack! **I found a use for my stick.

"Arggg!"

Voldemorts whirls, but not in time to catch me as I call out.. "He did it!" throwing the stick to a nearby Death idiot who actually catches the stick on reflex as I apparate with a mere wisp of displaced air, beating a hasty treat with the waning hope that, it was actually, Lucius Malfoy that I threw the stick to.

Wasting no time, I make haste for the Hogwart's gates before any , er,.. 'concerned parties' might actually be intelligent enough to take the initiative to come here to try and head me off before I reach the safety of Hogwart's wards.

A sigh of relief later and a growling stomach for a reminder that I'm just in time for supper.

Merlin, I'm famished.

I head into the Great Hall and make for my usual place oblivious to the stares, snorts and outright guffaws my appearance has on the student population.

Thinking I've missed something, I tear into a turkey drumstick as I pivot around to take a gander at the object of everyone's amusement.

I come face to face with a crooked, all knowing, all manipulating, nose in my business- Dumbledore.

_Didn't we just leave off here?_

Instead of usual disappointed look, his eyes are twinkling merrily and an amused expression is tugging at his lips.

I take a shot.

"Let me guess: Trelwaney made the discovery that while dusty and musty; dead old bones don't always break?"

The smile disappears from his headship and he's staring blankly, a strange tic like twitch at the corner of his eye his only sign of continued life.

I chew and swallow. Another bite, chew and swallow.

I think this is it? I think I finally broke the old codger!

Dean's on the floor again and Ron,.. well, let's just say that what he spluttered all over Hermione is probably not going to wash out.

Everyone who was laughing uproariously suddenly stops and an icy chill wafts through the Hall.

I turn to my right to find an enraged McGonagal bearing down on me.

"What is the meaning of this foolishness, Mr. Potter?" she demands, towering over me.

"Huh?" I ask clueless, and for once- I am.

"T-This, Potter?" she waved her exasperated hand over me in question.

I look down at myself, following the direction of her ire.

_Uh OH_

I forgot to remove the glamours,... halo, wings and all.

"Um... I've been bad."

First Dumbledore is yelling at me, until he runs out of air. Then McGonagal is towering over me, shaking her finger in my face , her accent getting thicker by the minute as she details the horrors that await my every waking moment from now until I graduate- _as if_ ?

"Listen..?" I interrupt, having to shout over the ringing in my ears to actually hear myself. "We all know I'm never going to graduate because I'll never live so long!"

The sympathy card- direct hit. McGonagal slumps in defeat, falling into a chair across from Dumbles whose face has taken on his 'grave' expression of utmost caring- _as if_?

_I'm on a roll, might as well go for broke as I'm facing a life time of detentions anyway._

"I'm a marked man. Numero Uno on his snakiness's list of things to do away with list." I push th elimits and McGonagal pales even further and Dumbledore grasps her hand to steady the poor lady as I vent my teenage angst to the fullest.

"Make up your mind people? Am the 'chosen one' or not? Hero one day, villain the next, back and forth, forth and back... cripes I'm getting a crick in my neck already!" I complain in exasperation.

"If you want me to fight, then let me fight. If not then let me alone, but I'm going to do it anyway. There's no choice really as dear old "Tom" is never going to let it me be. The least I can do is thin the heard for you lot before he takes me down." _Man,.. I'm really pouringit on thick._

McGonagal starts to cry at that and I find myself actually caring that she does.

"L-Look..." I try to assuage her hurt feelings. "...it's not like I've had much of a life up till now anyway and I'm certainly not going to have one should I actually be lucky enough to graduate- no one's going to hire me. I'm an outcast, worse than a vampire, werewolf, giant or whatever? Besides that, everyone will be too afraid to hire me for fear of bringing the Death Eaters down on their heads,.. and they'd be right."

"Y-You could still win, survive the war." McGonagal ventured hopefully. " One day you might even meet a nice witch and have a family your own,.. look at Remus? " McGonagal pleaded with him using Remus's good fortune as an example.

_I'd rather meet a "bad" witch, but I get the gist._

_"_Remus doesn't have Voldie, Death Beaters , Vampires and Werewolves all howling for his blood though, I do. **No** "nice" witch is going to ever consider any relationship seriously with me and certainly **no** muggle woman deserves the unknowing risk." Harry intimated factually, casting a darker pall over the room.

Harry sighed, feeling bad for causing his head such needless stress. "Y-You are meaning to be kind, but really, it's alright. I've been resolved to this a long time now. This is what I have so I'm working with what I've got. So, I take the mickey now and then? I'm just trying to have a little fun with what I've got to work with, surely you can't begrudge me that?"

Before Dumbledore could argue, I hold up a hand warning him off as I offer amicably.

"It's not like I don't expect you to do your job and keep everyone safe , educated and as in good of spirits as you may, myself included, but as far as the former goes... frankly... you're going to have to catch me up or I'll never submit to any punishment based on mere suspicion or shaky evidence. " With a snicker, I add:" All you've got me on today is a few off color comments and dressed like an angel."

McGonagal snorted at that, easing the tension from the room somewhat. "What exactly was that about, Harry? You looked like some sort of angelic statue in that gray paint." she asked benignly, using my given name to try and appeal to the vulnerability I've shown thus far.

I merely shrug indifferently. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

This time it was Dumbledore that snorted at this, whilst McGonagal scoffed, but not angrily so., more disappointed like.

Before anyone could offer anything further, Professor Flitwick waddles into the room, excitedly brandishing the evening edition of the _Prophet._

"Albus, Minerva, have you seen this? The aurors were alerted to a magical fire at the Old Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. Upon further investigation they found several dead Death Eaters in the nearby cemetery that appeared to have been in a magical battle of some sort."

"How many Death Eaters were there, Filius?" Dumbledore asked curiously, his gaze shifting surreptitiously toward Mr. Potter, who was gazing out the window of his office, suddenly enjoying the view of the Quidditch Pitch.

"Four...I'd guess." I unthinkingly answer, causing Dumbledore's eye brows to arch up suspiciously.

"Five actually." Flitwick amended.

"Five?" I cackle gleefully.

"By any chance was one left holding the stick?"


	4. Chapter 4: The cat's out of the bag

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Four: The cat's out of the bag**

_Omigod-Omigod-Omigod! _ I've barely made it out of Dumble's office and half way down the stair before...

_Oh-no, I feel a guffaw coming on!_

So here I am running down the hallway, attracting odd looks, which really isn't a new thing

per say.

Where was I? Oh yeah.. I'm running down the hallway with my fist shoved in my yap trying to stifle the guffaw that's begging to tear its way out of my throat.

I barely make it into an unused classroom before side splitting waves of laughter erupt until I'm clutching my stomach in pain from the spasms.

To think of the irony that infamous werewolf: Fenir Greyback, was the doggie left 'holding the stick'!

Well, dead doggie now. _There's a good boy!_

Remus will be so pleased. I vaguely wonder if the 'old wives' tale is true that; _if you kill a werewolf his blood line is severed and the curse is lifted?_

Stranger things have happened and let's face it; around me, strange happens pretty often.

I can't believe that Dumbles and Mc-G fell for the whole martyr act. I was laying it on thick as peanut butter and they were the toast.

Actually I have a lot of reasons to live, about three hundred and sixty million reasons to live, neatly tucked away in the Potter family vault and another two hundred and ninety in the Black Vault via Sirius' will.

I did feel bad about making Mc-G cry though. She's a tough old bird, but a fair one at least. Dumbles on the otherhand? Along with an already burgeoning list of grievances is the fact that he tried to hide my inheritances from me. No doubt it would distract from his intention that I sacrifice myself 'for the greater good'.

Him, I could feed a shite sandwich and not feel bad if he washed it down with a warm cup of piss, but hey, I digress.

Breakfast was a pensive affair the next morning and... Speaking of peanut butter? Dumbles was spreading it thick, himself.

After informing the, already elated and aware, student population over the tragic deaths of several Death Eaters having once been 'upstanding citizens and parents of our fellow classmates', Dumbles asked for a moment of silent prayer for our fellow students and a peaceful resolution to the war in general.

I tried. I really did, but, _Oh- no...I feel a guffaw coming on!_

I stuff my fist in my mouth a little too late to try and stifle a snigger. Ever vigilant, ( _and nosey),_ Hermione catches my moment of indiscretion and shoots me a disapproving glare.

_Yeah right,.. Like I've never received one of those before from her 'supreme primness'._

The huff she lets out at my expense served to alert Mc-G, whose now giving me one of her own patented glares of retribution followed by a smug look from Hermione to top it off.

_Hmm, someone has just found her way onto my radar and her last name rhymes with "danger"... which she is now in._

Dumbles finishes off with one of his trademark speeches calling for unity in the face of our fear, shooting me significant looks as he does so.

_Now I'm confused?_

_Is he wanting me to work with him and the 'order of the chicken'? _That being a complete contradiction as he so frequently reminds me that I don't play well with others.

Or_... is trying to tell me that I'm the face they should fear?_

Now, I must admit that the latter has a certain appeal to it. The former not so much other than it would put me in close proximity with the Weasleys' which I feel I owe a debt to.

And not in the gratitude type variety!

_Hmm,_ _I must ponder this turn of events._

Alright, I've decided. The Weasley's it is.

"Ginny, would you be so kind as to pass the marmalade?"

Startled that her once 'idol' and potential 'boyfriend' was again talking to her,( and oblivious to her brothers having warned me off- painfully so), Ginny hastens to pass the requested condiment.

Now, I hate marmalade, but I do enjoy living dangerously.

Ron's shooting me a warning glare and the twins are eyeing me uncertainly. I know their hearts are not in it, but,.. they did raise a hand against me and I'm not exactly the 'forgive and forget' type.

Maybe one day I'll learn to be more gracious? Nah!

"Ginny,.. Have you done something different with your hair?" I enquire with attentive interest.

Ginny blushes slightly, her hand going to her auburn locks, now significantly shortened to a rather fetching, carefree pixie style.

"I, ah,.. shortened it for quidditch. D-Do you like it?" She stammered uncertainly.

"It's very cute, stunning, really, the way it brings out the tones." I add for good measure and oddly,.. I mean it.

Some people never learn and I guess that's me.

Ginny's practically glowing she's blushing so profusely.

I go for the throat.

"I suppose I better get in a spot of practice before try-outs next week. Would you care to join me this afternoon for a bit of flying?"

"I'd like that, Harry. I'd like that very much." Ginny quickly accepts my invitation, favoring me with a winning smile that I have to say...I like.

"Great. I need all the practice I can get as I never get to fly in the summer and I'm , er.. reliably informed that the competition for my spot is _most likely _'**better**' than me this year." I stress for Ron and the twins' benefit as they've already warned me off playing this year.

"I suppose I'm taking a** risk** though?" I stress again pointedly for the male Weasley benefit, before plunging the dagger. "As practicing with you is sure to be **exquisitely painful**, in a distracting sort of way."

By the death glare that Ron's shooting me I can see my future promises to be just that: **exquisitely painful**.

I wonder for whom though?

Hmm, I must have a touch of seer in me somewhere. Yet one more distinguished talent to add to the growing list.

"Why, Mr. Potter, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were flirting with me?" Ginny gushes coyly, with a hint of hope in her tone.

"Would you be interested if I was?" I ask with hope and a casual sense of pleading in my voice.

"Maybe" Ginny answers, blushing deeply again.

Unfortunately, Ron chose that moment to strategically clear his throat and kindly offer to help me train to help give me an edge over the growing competition. His twin brothers readily jump on board and we agree to meet at the training room two hour before my appointment with their sister.

_Methinks there's going to be an unfortunate training accident today_.

I graciously accept their impromptu, but heartfelt, offer in the spirit with which it was intended and make a point of arriving earlier to show my respectful appreciation.

"Urg!" Ron's on the bench press straining to put up another set of reps when I arrive.

A quick scan confirms that the twins have yet to arrive.

A Cheshire grin splits my face as I consider the possibilities.

"Seven...e-eight...nineee...Ughh! " Ron falters and the bar drops back on his chest painfully as he's unable to lift the tenth and final rep.

"Here,...let me get that for you, Ron?" I offer hurriedly, coming to his surprised, but, albeit grateful rescue.

_What're friends for?_

I quickly slap two more plates onto either side of the bar.

"Hey-Oww!" Ron protests as he starts to panic, trying to squirm out from under the bar as it digs cruelly into his rib cage.

I loom up over his face from behind the bar. "Listen git. I'm not taking any of you or your brother's guff anymore." I warn, leaning down to add my own weight to the bar that's crushing him like a bug.

"If I want to see Ginny, I will. If I want to play quidditch, I will. If I want want to shag Ginny in front of your parents and then offer the same consolation to your mum,..I will."

I'm not sure how much of this the git's getting as he's already purpling up and his breaths are starting to take on a high pitch wheezing quality.

Ever compassionate, I lift the bar off him, one handed, and make to return it to the stand when a menacing voice behind joins the conversation.

"I think we may have something to say about that?" Fred challenges.

I turn, with weighted bar still held casually in my hand and ask curiously... "Which part?", ignoring the relieved gasps from Ron behind me.

"The part about shagging our sister." George intimates.

"And our mum." Fred adds menacingly.

I feign surprise and proceed to casually dump the weights off each side with a casually steady tilt of the hand from side to side.

The heavy weights clatter and clang across the floor, causing the pair to wince.

My taking the weight bar in both hands and proceeding to bend it like a pipe cleaner causes them to wince even more, especially as the steel rod protests with a high pitched squeal of despair.

"Which part?" I inquire again grimly.

I can hear, a recovering, Ron shift his position to one where he can take a run at me while I'm distracted.

"You'll never make it." I warn over my shoulder, displaying not the least concern at the potential threat.

I was too fast for Ron before my accident, now... I'm too fast for all three at once.

I take their momentary indecisiveness to ram my point home by bending the bar straight with even less visible effort than when I'd bent it originally.

I set the bar carefully aside and fix the pair in front with an expectant look that promises absolute and total mayhem.

One twin is gulping nervously under the scrutiny; the other is still gapping at the bar I'd just straightened.

"Y-You could've...? And we...? Why didn't you fight back?" George stammers out in stunned disbelief.

I sigh disappointedly at that. "You really need to ask?"

The twins have the good grace to look absolutely ashamed.

Ron uses the distraction to make his move and he swings a dumbbell bar at my unsuspecting head.

Before either twin can cry out a warning, and I'm relieved to see that they we're about to do just that, I catch the bar mid-air and give it a violent yank forward. Overbalanced and his momentum turned against him; Ron goes careening into a weight rack which falls on top the fool, undoubtedly breaking several toes and his right knee, by the way it's bent inward.

_The screams! The scream_s! _Tis music to the ears._

Something tells me that Ron isn't going to make the tryouts and subsequently- the team, this year.

Pity that... a_nother unfortunate training accident_. This just isn't Ron's year and I have it on good authority that the next isn't looking too good either.

"Did Ronnekins stumble and go boom?" I sympathize in a parental babyish voice of concern.

Ron's stumbling around howling and whining in pain. I can't help myself, _it's the nobility thing_, I decide to take pity and relieve his discomfort.

Wham!

"Ughh!"

Thump

Now the common man would assume that that was the sound of a rubber ball being thrown against a wall with such force that it sprung a leak, deflated and splat to the ground.

Those in the know would conjecture it the sound of an elbow striking the temple of a pathetic idiot, knocking him silly, and he falling to the floor-unconscious.

What really happened, and I'll swear to this; "Ron stubbed his toe on a barbell, grunted from the sudden pain and shock, lost his balance and fell to the floor, knocking himself-blessedly unconscious."

I raise an eyebrow to the surprised twins, still shifting their gazes between me and the lump at my feet.

"Isn't that what happened guys?" I ask in my best 'intimidation voice' as I rub my knuckles in warning.

"Exactly" Fred immediately agrees.

"Shame really, but accidents will happen." George adds.

"Now,..." I continue for good measure. "If you boys should be contemplating changing your stories from the facts or are foolishly considering a little more 'Weasley brother' style payback? Keep in mind that I'm a one third partner in your business- your fault that." I remind, then clarify, "My point is,.. is that if we can't get along for the business' sake, I'll be forced to sell my one third share to interested parties. I'm reliably informed that both the Malfoys and the Lestrange's have a keen interest in some of your current products like "you no poo" and your 'Death Meat-Beater trading cards'. I've no doubt they'd buy me out in a heartbeat to be able to exercise a little 'quality control'." I smirk cruelly for emphasis.

The twins share a disgusted look that's riddled with defeat.

"That was a low blow..." George begins.

"even for you." Fred finishes the thought.

I smile appreciatively. It's always nice to settle harsh feeling between friends and get back to the status quo.

"Just so we understand each other?" I press my point home.

"Indubitably" George agrees in a snobbish retort.

"Crystal" Fred chirrups next to him.

"For what it's worth..." George began with a pained look of regret.

"We're sorry, Harry." Fred finished. "We didn't want to hurt you."

"At all." George throws in sincerely.

"I know that. I knew you were holding back, but your other brothers, especially that git Percy... and let's not forget Charlie?"

The twins winced at that. Charlie had been nothing short of cruel, laying it on far more than was necessary. Percy... Percy had kicked Harry in the teeth for good measure as they were leaving, in a petty display of retribution.

The twins nodded in understanding, even going so far as to offer... "Need some help?"

"No, but thanks for offering." I smile my appreciation at the gesture.

We share a long look of mutual understanding and renewed friendship that conveys far more than words could express and has to as we'll need to be discrete lest the twins suffer by proxy for associating with me.

Out of respect for the two of them, I disclose. "Now, I'm not really planning anything serious, but if Ginny and I should develop more than a casual interest in each other, will you two have a problem with that given the current climate."

The two shared a long look before answering.

"It doesn't matter to us..." George began.

"What you are or aren't." Fred added.

"Just what kind of a person you are?" George clarified.

"And how you treat our sister?" Fred finished pointedly, his tone darkening at that last in warning.

I nod in relief, promising.. "You'll probably be hearing a lot about me in the days ahead, some will be accurate, but probably a lot won't be. But one thing I can promise is that I'll treat Ginny kindly and with the utmost respect, because she deserves it and not because she has six older brothers."

The twins share a brief look of relief before smiling back.

"We appreciate that, Harry." Fred responds gratefully.

"And think you're being awfully generous, considering what we did." George adds.

"Friends?" I offer my hand forward.

Though his eyes shift warily to the straightened bar from before, George tentatively accepts my hand. I give him credit for his trepidation as twenty minutes earlier I would have pulped his hand and enjoyed it.

"Friends" George agrees.

"Best friends." Fred assures, pumping my hand next.

That done George slaps his hands together and rubs them in anticipation, chortling.. "Now that that's settled; How exactly did you set up little Ronnekins and Draco?"

"That was inspired work that was." Fred echoes his own enthusiasm for a well done prank.

"Let's not forget the greasy git, either?" George adds with a snicker of delight.

"Well,.. I...?"

Ron takes that moment to announce his return to consciousness with a groan of misery.

All he manages to do is distract me, catching up my interest. I'm standing over Ron, whose trying and failing to right himself, mulling over my options.

Fred, or George, not sure which at the moment, must catch my tell of potential mayhem in the offing as they hastily offer to levitate Ron up to the infirmary and bundle away my 'would be' victim before I have a chance to further amuse myself.

Pity that. I was contemplating using Ron for a set of _squat thrusts_, but immediately discounted the idea as I refuse to indulge in anything that he may potentially enjoy.

Draco can give him the literal edition when he returns from Durmstrang, or Hermione could. Merlin knows that woman's got some peculiar hang-ups, at least that's what I hear from the girl's 'dorm room' gossip.

Hmmm, beep...beep... _Yes, I do believe I have a potential blip on my radar and methinks I 've got just the solution?_

_Since Hermione supposedly enjoys playing the man... why not give her a..._

_Damn-it- all !_

_Focus, Harry. You've got other fish to fry just now._

Remembering my casual date in the offing; I grab my kit and head for the showers.

Now the quidditch locker is a funny thing. The male and female players share a locker though there's a separate shower area, of course, but the lockers are arranged with the male on one side facing theirs and the female locker on the other side, facing their perspective shower area.

The whole things sort of an honor system as all one would have to do is saunter around the row of lockers to get an eyeful.

The boys don't violate this, of course.

I'm shocked that anyone would even consider such a thing when it's far more discrete to simply poke a hole in each locker and just wait for the girls to arrive and disrobe accordingly.

We all have our personal favorites, of course. Not that I personally have ever engaged in said dubious practices.

I'm an old fashion gentleman at heart. I believe in getting to know a young lady before ravishing her wantonly.

The others, I'm reliably informed, have a 'pot luck' sort of system, whereby they alternate their daily lockers and by sheer luck get who they get as no one has an assigned locker as four teams share the same locker room amongst them.

I'm told that Alicia Spinnit isn't a natural blond, pity that. I'm also told that Katie Bell has the most perfectly round...

_Damn-it-all, Harry? Focus!_

Where was I, oh, yeah,.. Ginny's imminent arrival.

Now as I was saying before I went to the 'pervert place' was that we share a locker, to which the ladies apparently have a system of their own for getting there jollies. They being the smarter of the sexes and far more devious, cast a simple _transparency charm_ on the curtain divider between the two showers that acts like a one way mirror.

This explains the gasps and giggles we hear on occasion when getting to and vacating the shower area proper.

I've decided that today I'm going to towel off in the shower exit rather than the habit of wearing my towel around my waist until I reach the privacy of my locker.

A little advertisement never hurts.

When I say a 'little advertisement' I am , of course, not speaking _figuratively._

After a soothing, and hot , very hot shower.

_I'm avoiding shrinkage,.. you gents out there know what I mean?_

Anyway, I take my time, liberally toweling myself dry, noticing, (strictly by accident), that I'm currently running a few minutes late for meeting Ginny.

To my surprise; I hear a gasp of what I would describe as: "hopeful anticipation".

"Ginny?" I call out uncertainly.

"U-U-Um, yeah?" I hear the haltingly nervous return from the other side of the curtain screen.

"Sorry I'm running late." I apologize with a straight face, don't ask me how? "I'll be out in a minute, 'kay?"

"S-Sure ,Harry." She stammers and I hear by the sound of her running footsteps that she's hurriedly vacating the area.

What can I say... I've 'been bad', but in a good sorta way.

Ginny and I have a lovely fly together wherein I help her nail down a 'sloth grip roll' to perfection.

She's a natural flyer, and I'm fairly certain redhead, as well.

_Stop that! Bad Harry, Bad!_

After two hours of thoroughly enjoyable flying and flirtatious conversation, we take part in the team tryouts, under Alicia Spinnit's captaincy. _You know.. not the natural blonde. I can't help but wonder just what her natural color is as with her complexion red head might be a possibility? Potter men are drawn to red... _

_Damn-it-all, Harry, focus!_

Anyway, we each nail our perspective positions on the team and this time when I show it's a cold one as I'm; not only hot and sweaty, but somewhat distracted with the notion of hair color.

I take care to wrap my towel around me when I exit the shower, and I can almost swear I heard a few grumbles of disappointment.

Must be my imagination.

I exit the locker, damp haired but in high spirits to get an unexpected surprise in that Ginny's nervously waiting, offering to walk me up to dinner at that castle.

Thoughtful that.

With a coy smile I offer her my arm, which she gratefully accepts and .. 'We're off to see the Wizards'!

We're having a pleasant conversation, oblivious to our surroundings until...

"Here Now? Just what're you playing at?" an angry Michael Corner erupts, blocking our progress at the castle steps.

I glance at Ginny to see if she has a clue as to what this is about as I'm fairly certain that Michael's never ghosted across my radar screen, git that he is.

By the blazing look on Ginny's face, I can tell that she's acutely aware of what's transpiring as she snaps out...

"What I do or don't do is absolutely none of your business, Michael. Though, it might still be if you hadn't been skirting around with that Hufflepuff skank last week and ruined things between us."

_Ah, question answered: jealous ex._

"So,.. to get back at me you start going out with this,... _thing_?" he retorts back incredulously with a note of distinct disgust coloring his voice as he sneers pointedly at me.

_Sergeant, report your findings- over... Sir, there's a definite blip on the radar dead ahead._

Ginny goggles at Michael clearly outraged to the point of speechlessness.

Me, on the other hand, am feeling quite loquacious as it's been a rather dull since Dumbeldore's office... _was that only yesterday? _

_I suppose I should be on my best behavior what with Ginny being present and all? I did, after all, promise the twins to treat her like a lady._

"Piss off, Corner." I submit in a bland, gentlemanly fashion, dismissing the pretentious fool like an inbred Malfoy, complete with derisive sneer of contempt.

Corner's enraged hand snaps out and grabs my arm as he threatens.."Take your hand off her you- pussy...Urrk!"

_Pussy? _

_Hmm... what to do,... what to do?_

I've got Corner around the neck, dangling off the floor. He's twitching spasmodically as he struggles with both hands to extradite my one handed choke hold. He's purpling up nicely and his protestations are quickly becoming feebler due to a lack of air.

I know...let the punishment fit the crime-_ 'Pussy'_.

_Now, I'm a lot of things but a pussy?_

Since Corner obviously either has an aversion to or is drawn to felines...?

"Excuse me a minute, won't you, Ginny?" I ask hopefully, ignoring the twitching git in my hand.

"Y-You're not going to do anything drastic, are you, Harry?" Ginny hesitantly responds.

"Certainly not." I scoff.

Corner picks that moment to faint and I casually throw him over one shoulder, letting him get a bit of undisturbed rest.. he's going to need it.

Taking a leaf out of Hermione's page our second year,.. I make for the potion's storeroom.

Five minutes later and a _borrowed _poly juice potion along with a cat hair from a stray Hufflepuff's familiar...

Viola! A masterpiece! I congratulate myself after Corner transforms into an adult sized, Croner-Cat. Now that's what I call a - Pussy!

Now for the final touch.

I just happen to have in my possession a small bottle of catnip concentrate that I use to torment Hermione, via her familiar when she'd being smug to the point of arrogant.

Shame to use it up, but I can always owl order another from the Owl and pet emporium.

I summon the bottle and a few moments later I'm rubbing said concentrate liberally into Corner-Cat's coat.

A quick wandless _scourgify,_ to rid myself of the offending odor, and I'm off to collect Ginny for a bit of supper while it's still warm.

The two of us are enjoying a spot of shepard's pie, Ron free as he's hospitalized for the next several day's per the twin's update- pity that.

I'm just deciding between apple pie or chocolate dipped strawberries for desert when I here a distinctly human like "meow" of question from the Great Hall's doorway.

Now, I'd like to admit that I completely forgot McGonagal's animagus form when I lit upon my Corner-Cat idea, but that would be a lie and I'm trying to be a gentleman for Ginny's sake.

The students are pointing and laughing uproariously, Ginny included, whilst I'm trying to look distinctly innocent while shoving a hand in my mouth as I feel a 'guffaw coming on'.

A nice white and orange, half man, half cat Michael Corner is mewling piteously from the door way, as he's busily licking and pawing lovingly at his own furry belly, whilst at the same time his human side appears to regain control, appalled by his own behavior and tries to stop himself, only to compulsively submit to continued licking and fondling.

I lose my battle with trying to stifle my sniggers when McGonagal yowls in a feral-like fashion, transforms into her cat animgus and streaks toward her intended chew toy.

She's got company as Mrs. Norris, Crookshanks and a host of other cat familiar's show up to join the fun.

With a human like scream of absolute terror, Corner Cat takes off with dozens of incensed cats hot on his _tail._

_The screams.. the screams! Tis music to the ears._

I'm sitting here in Dumbledore's office, don't ask me why, watching McGonagal gargle, spit into a conjured bucket and re-gargle, wondering curiously just what taste she's trying to wash out of her mouth?

A still half transformed; Michael Corner is up in the infirmary, scratched and bleeding from head to toe shuddering uncontrollably despite receiving repeated _calming draughts_.

Dumbledore's glaring meaningfully at me. "Well, Mr. Potter?" he sighs expectantly, not bothering with the formalities to ascertain if I have, in fact, 'been bad' again.

I shrug benignly, offering... "If it'll help I could send for a gross of cat nip toys?" I turn my attention to McGonagal whose choking at that and ask kindly. "What'd you think everyone would prefer, Professor? Yarn balls with bells or squeaky mice?"

McGonagal's gagging and stammering, whilst Dumble's is twitching, stuffing his hand in his mouth to try and stifle the 'guffaw coming on'.

I can empathize with him. It's so hard to try not to do what your body's insisting upon.

"Let it out, professor. " I suggest. "It'll only hurt worse if you try and hold it in."

The poor man loses the battle and breaks down in knee slapping laughter, made all the worse by McGonagal's indignant huffing and reprimands.

I'd like to join him, but feel discretion is the better part of valor as they were throwing around the 'expulsion' word a few minutes ago.

Once Dumbles finally gets a hold of himself, he and McGonagal decide on a rather ironic punishment for yours truly as Mc-G informs me in her strictest, most prim and proper voice that I'm to...

"Spend the next month cleaning all the cat boxes in the castle- twice weekly,.. without the use of magic."

Whilst I can appreciate the irony, I can't help myself and am forced to ask. "Do you prefer regular or scoop-able littler, professor?"

Dumbles, the poor sod, has barely recovered and wastes no time as he roars with laughter.

Me,... I'm nursing a variety of stinging hexes, to which I point out, stupidly so, that its against the rules for teachers to utilize corporal punishment.

Now,.. I'm sitting in the infirmary listening to Corner mewl and whine as tried not to lick his own belly.


	5. Chapter 5: Nothing but decisions

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Five: Nothing but decisions**

It's coming up on Halloween and I've nothing but decisions on my plate. Firstly, there's going to be a feast and a dance.

A dance- yikes! The last time I attempted what could laughingly be called 'a dance' was at the Tri-wizard's Ball.

That's what you get for not bothering with dance lessons, or taking your role in things seriously.

I've learned to do the latter as the loss of Sirius was the final blow in a long history of impetuousness. Oh, I'm still impetuous, but there is **some **rhyme to my reason now... a little anyway.

As for the dance and dance lesson thing...?

I can work on the lessons thing later, right now I've got more important matters like securing a date for the evening.

Ginny and I have sort of hit it off. I wouldn't call what we have as dating per say, but it's definitely something more than just friends. At least I think so.

Ron has shown a greater aptitude for learning new material, and by that I mean... he's learned it's a healthy alternative to remove his overly large nose from my personal business.

Which, by proxy; includes seeing his sister.

Hermione, on the other hand, has yet to display a willingness to accept life's changes with quiet grace and dignity.

I've decided it's expected, if not inherent, that I, as a concerned fellow student, friend, and social expert, (in training), aide Hermione to achieve her highest potential in all things; including social acceptance and decorum.

There now, wasn't that nice. I've grown so much over the past few weeks. Why it's only last month that I would have stated that Hermione's managed to get on my 'on my radar' by pissing me off! Such vulgar remarks are beneath a gentleman and English Lord of my standing.

Did I mention I was a lord...No,.. must have slipped my mind? It certainly slipped Dumb-ass-dore's as he never mentioned it, nor the fact that as such I am fully emancipated at the right young age of sixteen.

Woo-Hoo!

_Stop that, bad Harry! You're a gentleman now and such childish behavior is beneath you._

That in mind, I had my private celebration of my recent adulthood in an appropriate and reserved fashion for one of my station.

Where was I.. oh, yeah, _appropriate and reserved_. I got flaming drunk and took it upon myself to devise and provide the staff and students a bit of festive cheer in a friendly, peaceful manner.

I, with a little help from Winky and Dobby, made several large cakes and a lovely batch of punch.

No, I didn't spike the punch. How very crude of you to leap to that conclusion. It's the first thing Mc-G and Dumbles checked for.

The cake... no,.. at least not like you're thinking...as it's the second thing the powers that be checked.

_The candles however..._

I've been experimenting of late; testing out my new found powers of concentration in potion making and came to a startlingly simple discovery.

Now, many of the potions that are good for us tend to taste exquisitely bad, however, I've noted that the fragrance said potion gives off whilst brewing is often quite pleasant if a bit heady for my tastes. I've also noticed that the vapor from said potions tends to contain some of the effect,( albeit to a lesser degree), that the potion is utilized for.

Muggles, in this regard, are way ahead of the magical community in regards to inhalation therapy.

With all this taken into consideration I arrived at a scientific question that developed into a hypothesis.

If the _calming draughts_ tend to make the brewer a tad lethargic and the _pepper –ups_ make one a bit excitable...what do laxatives do?

Now, I've noted through past experience that the brewing of laxatives in what was the word I used...? Oh, yeah,.. _a bit heady for my taste_. In that I mean:_ Whoa.. what's that smell?_"

I find the laxatives themselves have a rather pleasant, minty aroma. Their affect, however, elicits the _Whoa.. what's that smell?_

Yes, people,.. I'm talking flatulence,.. or more technically speaking: the relief of gas heralding the onset of peristalsis_._

A useful effect, I agree, but I'm thinking I can do better. Thus,.. I managed to _concentrate_ the vaporous affects of many subsequent potions through tedious, but worthwhile, trial and error.

My first such success I've lovingly entitled: **Harry's Heady Harbinger** or one of the new 'Triple H' line. Notice I worked the _heady _reference in there? Harbinger, too, is inspired. I mean think about it? A harbinger is the person sent ahead to bring bad news.

Come on people... Don't ya get it...?

This stuff causes immense flatulence, thus the- **heady** reference. It also **precedes** the fragrance's medicinal, or 'desired effect' in that of its laxative nature. Thus.. **Heady- Harbinger**!

Still not getting it are you? Do you at least get the **Harry** part of the product's title?

You'll get later just what I mean by **Heady Harbinger**.

We, ( the twins and I), are planning a whole line of _Triple H_ products I'd thought of _harassment_ and _H- bomb_ or even _harried_, all would have been accurate to a degree, but I thought I should stick with something that grabs the general public's attention.

Fred and George think it inspired and we're planning a whole line of gag celebratory cake candles and candles for the home in general.

Now, when I say _gag_, I mean as in a joke or prank though the other definition would be accurate in this instance.

I've already developed a special birthday candle for the kiddies called Harry's Hysterical Harlequins which transforms youthful party guests into clowns, for oh say, twenty minutes or so. The little blighters are compelled to tell jokes, spray each other with seltzer, trip over overlarge feet, hit their fellows with enormous boxing gloves and spongy mallets etcetera.

There's a plan in the works for a a variety of more 'adult oriented' party candles, which I'll outline later... you'll see.

Now, as I'm all about quality control and as I've already got a perfect test subject in mind, I developed a special scented candle for a dear friend as a show of my deep appreciation for her abiding friendship and loyalty.

I'm naming this particular candle for its source of inspiration. I'm calling it: _**Hermione's Hermaphroditic Harridan**_!

Now, for those of you who don't know what an hermaphrodite is, its... well it's... you see... er,.. it's complicated...

Now as I said earlier in my story,... Hermione's , um,.. _dorm room antics_ have become rather suspect as has her gender preference if not her own perceived gender identity.

I, wanting to be a compassionate and supportive, have decided upon a plan to help relieve some of Hermione's social anxiety by giving her a point, er, counterpoint sort of view,.. er, apply that to the subject of hermaphrodites and...

Oh for crying out loud... the candle will give her the plumbing for both genders for the day-okay?

Now, for the _**harridan**_ side of things? A harridan is a shrew, someone who lords their view over others and badgers them,.. you know- Hermione.

As I said,.. me wanting to be compassionate and supportive,.. I want to give her a chance to explore both sides of her sexuality and critique it as only she can in that smug 'know-it-all' fashion of hers.

You're all not getting it are you?

_Sigh..._

I gave her male and female parts and a heightened sense to lord it over her own self for a change- got it?

It was my first field test and I did manage to gather a great deal of empirical data from eye witness accounts, er,.. via the gossip chain.

I presented Hermione with my thoughtful gift which I proudly proclaimed having made myself so that she could plainly see the sincerity of my gift. I received a delighted squeal of appreciation and a kiss to the cheek, which I must admit was touching.

Almost makes me wish things hadn't gone the way they did- almost.

Anyway, Hermione bolts for her dorm for some reading, pledging to try out my gift which has a rather unique musky, yet light and airy scent... _odd that?_

_It's almost as if... No,.. don't go there? Bad, Harry- Bad!_

Twenty minutes or so later, when the candle's burned itself out and subsequently removed all evidence...

_Where was I,.. oh, yeah,.. empirical data._

First there's a blood curdling scream followed by hurled epitaphs of "I'll kill him!" And a variety of other foul threats that waft down from the witch's dorm room stairs.

I can only assume that Hermione's referring to Ron, logical choice- right?

Alarmed, several classmates, including Parvarti and Lavender, bolt up the stair to check on Hermione's welfare, but come down after a few minutes both worried and irate as Hermione's locked herself in the bathroom, refuses to come out, and gave them a good tongue lashing for 'being nosey'.

_Hmm, check one for Harridan on my data collection form._

Now, I don't know firsthand, but I'm reliably informed, for the price of two galleons, that Hermione only snuck out of the bath sometime during the night when her roommates were all slumbering, peacefully unaware, and made her way to her own bed, casting _imperturbable charms _around the bed curtains.

She should probably thought to have cast _silencing charms_ around her bed, as well, because somewhere in the night; Hermione's own curiosity got the better of her. I believe this based on the fact that her roommates were awakened by a crescendo of moans and groans of distinct pleasure emanating from the direction of Hermione's bed.

Again, her concerned roommates were alarmed that Hermione was obviously ill as they couldn't conceive of any other possible explanation that would account for such wanton and vulgar exclamations as this was- Hermione.

The received first.. _strange invitations_ to join her, followed by another tongue lashing when no one accepted said invitations.

Her roommates cast their own _silencing charms,_ after that, for their own peace of mind.

Hermione did not attend her classes the next day as she was holed up in her dorm room, or more properly, her bed.

She did not emerge until late the next evening, pale and bedraggled. For which I earned many suspicious glares as Collin promptly blurted out that she looked like she went ten rounds with a vampire and lost.

Collin earned himself a stinging hex that looked like it could flay the hide off a dragon.

Me,.. I got ,.. well,.. I was promptly informed that I was an absolute genius and was beset upon with orders for... Orders? Yeah right,.. I received a **demand** from Hermione for dozen of my special candles by first thing Friday- sharp!

Did I mention that Hermione's become an addict? Not that I had anything to do with it , of course. I merely supplied her order expediently for cost and once I had a secure and prolific demand for said product; I slowly raised my rates whilst increasing the potency of my product.

Is it wrong to want to give my customer more bang for their buck?

It was a lovely Saturday morning following my last delivery to Hermione. She's looking a bit dehydrated these days, pale too. I warned her, concerned friend that I am, that she's spending way too much time holed up in her room and her grades are suffering for it.

Anyway, today there's a Hogsmeade outing, (the last before the Halloween dance in two weeks). Which I avoided for two reasons:

Firstly; I wanted to avoid having to choose between escorting Ginevra, Daphne, or possibly Susan Bones; who's come onto my radar and in a good way, a very good way, but, I digress.

The second reason is that I'm slaving over a hot oven. Well, actually Dobby and Winky are, but I'm supervising in a very responsible fashion. That and I'm casting charms over the Great Hall, getting a reading on the total air volume of the room, measuring it against the dissipation rate of the candles and the projected coverage area per candle.

Hmm, better make it nine cakes in total. Two for each house table, and a especially nice big one for Dumbles and company as befits their rank and stature.

_Merlin,... I hope I have enough candles?_

I check and recheck my figures? I should just make it.

Since the Halloween holiday also marks the anniversary of my parent's subsequent demise by dear old Tom's involvement; I decide to include Tom and company by providing a small token gesture of peace between us, taking leaf out of Dumble's page for tolerance and peaceful resolution.

I'm going to explore the Death Eater mentality for its ability to **tolerate **and seek a **peaceful resolution**!

I'll get to that later.

Once dinnertime draws toward a conclusion, Dumbledore announces my intention to provide this evening's dessert in a show of affection for my fellow students in celebration of my emancipation.

There's a smattering of somewhat skeptical applause, mixed in with sincerely grateful cheers and congratulations.

It's show time, er,.. I mean dessert time!

Dobby and Winky proudly bring in the variety of cakes, each smartly decorated in each of the subsequent house's colors.

Dumbledore and Mc-G cast a few diagnostic and _revealing charms_ over said cakes, to which I display my acute disappointment at the lack of trust, earning reluctant apologies from both.

The candles are lit filling the air with a delicious minty fragrance, which I cast a _bubblehead charm _over myself, explaining that I'm allergic to mint.

Which I am,.. at least in this particular case. It was quite by accident that I discovered this in the process of my product testing. Between Pomfrey dumping potions down me to combat the allergic reaction and the constant bouts of diarrhea,.. it made for a very long day. At least the I gain the experience to wisely change my brewing policy with improved safety standards, hence... my first product tester as mentioned previously.

Where was I?,... Oh yes, the _bubblehead charm_; this earns a few skeptical looks and reconsideration before tasting though this is foregone once Dumbles assures the Hall that he and Mc-G have ascertained that the cake are just that- cakes, and quite harmless,, with Madam Pomfrey's acknowledgement that I am, indeed, allergic to mint.

The Hall hesitantly gives my treat a try and soon everyone's commenting on the deliciousness of the treat, except for Gred and Forge as I'm pleased to see they're avoiding heavy desserts these days.

Ron, on the other hand is gorging himself directly in front of an intoxicating chocolate cake whose candles have burned themselves out leaving no residual evidence, er,.._residue_ for the elves to clean up.

I'm all about helping out where I can and see no reason for the elves to have to work harder on my accord.

I'm sure Hermione would be proud of me if she wasn't isolating herself in her dorm these days.

Anyway, my work here is finished. So when the first cannon shot rings out, I beat a hasty retreat to the safety of the Great Hall's doorway which is infused with fresh air from the castle doors and offers a safe haven for viewing, not to mention an avenue of escape. I'd like to stay and peruse my handiwork first hand, solely for posterity's sake to gather more empirical data, but, I'm not sure just how much my _bubblehead charm_ can take as the Hall's quickly filling with groans of disgust drowned out by extreme displays of horrific flatulence.

I'm glad that the candles have extinguished as undoubtedly the castle would have burnt to the ground, if it didn't drown first beneath the mud slide.

By that, I mean, remember when I described the initial effects of the candles as being harbingers? Well,.. they were harbingers of the explosive diarrhea that came next.

_The screams! The screams! Tis music to the ears._

* * *

><p>So,... I'm sitting here in Dumbles' office supposedly expected to quail beneath withering glares of contempt and outrage.<p>

I don't know why I always get blamed for everything?

Dumbledore is drumming his fingers expectantly, trying not to twitch spasmodically as Mc-G is still passing what I would describe as '_silent fury'_. I don't know if it's just me, but I'm getting an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

"Well...?" Dumbledore groans out in his best stern-disappointed voice.

I shrug, offering... "Did I mention that I've invented a new aerosol line of delivery for products that will revolutionize the medical, prank shop and home product market?"

Bluuurrrppp

McGonagal was about to launch a scathing retort, but was over ruled by a strange sound emanating from somewhere just behind her.

"E-Excuse me." She mumbles ashamedly, turning her face away.

Again,... that overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

Whatever she did has Dumbles paling rapidly. Some quick wand-work,(whilst gagging), and I recognize the scent of lilac air freshener filling the room.

Dumbles pockets his wand and returns his attention to me after casting a disgusted look toward his second.

"You were saying, Mr. Potter?" he sighs in a withering tone.

I launch into an update of my findings, mindful to mention that I've already patented the idea and my initial products,( one can never wholly trust adults in authority, better safe than sorry).

"It was an honest mistake, honest." I plea, explaining further. "The elves must have gotten the candles mixed up. They were suppose to get my new line.. Harry's Humorous Harmonies. The candles not only fill the air with delightful smells but sing out humorous party tunes like... "There once was a witch from Nantucket" and "There was a crooked wizard who had a crooked wand!"

"Mister Potter!" McGonagal gasps out scandalized, having finally found her voice whilst Dumbledore is twitching oddly. He's most likely trying not to laugh at the prospect.

Seeing the chance to vindicate myself, I go for broke. "I may even have happened upon a new line of weaponry to give the Death Beaters a taste of their own medicine."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shoot up at that, instantly intrigued.

With a cunning smile, I proudly inform them that.. "I sent Tom and his Death Goons some lovely scented candles suitable for the wake of his inner circle who tragically met their demise in the graveyard at Little Hangleton recently."

Seeing his suspicious questioning look as he pondered this, I detailed that: "I took your speech to heart, about showing tolerance and finding peaceful resolutions, so I gave Voldemort and the Death Eaters something to focus their attention on rather than attacking Muggles and muggleborns. It may even expose those Death Eaters we are unaware of?" I conjecture.

Dumbledore shares and intrigued look with his second before turning his attention back to me. "I must admit that not only am I gratified by this change of heart, on your part, Mr. Potter, I am curious as to just what you've developed that is capable of taking Voldemort's focus away from the general public, as well as, exposing hidden members among his Death Eaters and supporters? Please explain if you would?"

I smile benignly as I finish my explanation to his headship's satisfaction. "Simple really. With the _protean charm_ in mind... You know that it's the basis for the Dark Mark?" I clarify before continuing.

Dumbledore nods that he is aware of this.

I continue.. "With that in mind I triggered a specially scented candle that will only affect those that carry a dark variation of the _protean charm_ upon their person. I doubt Voldiewart carries one?" I grumble dejectedly. "But I'm hopeful that there's a connection between him and those he marks that will transfer the affects to him as well or that he'll actually deign to be present and fake showing a modicum of remorse."

"And to what affects are you referring, Mr. Potter?" Dumble's patience is waning so I stop conjecturing and finish my explanation.

"It's a distinguished, black colored line of candles suitable for funerals, wakes and the like, but really, I can alter the color to suit any occasion. I call this particular line: Harry's Howling Hemorrhoids! The name itself should be self explanatory and the affects quite debilitating for between three to five days. I was hoping for more, but the candles would have needed to be larger than what is suitable, not to mention far less inconspicuous."

I wait patiently for his reaction as he's just staring blankly off into space, though that strange tic at the corner of his eye has returned.

McGonagal is gapping at me, stuttering non-sensibly and I'm starting to get worried that she's suffering the ill effects of dehydration and is getting a bit loopy.

After several minutes and still nothing but tics, blank stares and the occasional invisible, but noxious reminder of why I'm sitting here in the first place; I decide I've given them enough to ponder so I quietly take my leave.

Unbeknownst to me, the two heads weren't quite as debilitated as I'd assumed and came out of their stupor moments after I'd already departed.

"Could that... is that even possible...ahhh?" McGonagal begins to stammer before another indiscretion blatantly makes itself known.

BLUUURP

Dumbledore's eyes cross for a moment and he looks to be struggling with not bolting from his office. He eyes the floo, but immediately discounts the idea as he doesn't want to add an open flame to an already volatile situation.

"It's entirely possible, given the current state of affairs." Dumbledore surmises, wiping a tear from his watering eyes.

"In fact,.." he contends further. "It's rather a ingenius if one discounts the ,.er,..notion of honor and fairness. Then again, we are at war. He-He-He." The old man begins to chuckle.

"Yes,.. well,.. hmmm" McGonagal chafes before she to breaks down into laughter of her own.

Bluuurp

"Oh,.. I do apologize." McGonagal blurts out embarrassedly, flushing.

"Yes, well,..." Dumbledore is about to dispel her fears and the offensive odor encompassing his office .

He's reaching for his wand to cast an air freshening charm when the floo ignites...

"Albus,... Albus are you there?" Fudge's voice hurriedly comes out of the green flames before...

**BOOM**

So here I am quietly eating my supper,... from the end of the table again as I've been ousted by my own house-again!

Now, I can understand the glares from the students and even from the staff on general principal, but what I can't figure out is why Mc-G and Dumbles are wearing a sooty 'black face' type makeup to the evening feast and 'that's okay', but when yours truly gets caught in a spot of cement hued glamour and that's a 'bad thing'?

I also don't know why I'm getting blamed for Dumble's office being destroyed by some freak random explosion.

I swear I had nothing to do with it, yet I was convicted on the spot without so much as a chance to plead my innocence, which I am, for once.

They gave me detention with Filch every night until the end of the term,.. can you believe that?

Logically, I pointed out that detention is going to seriously impinge on my research and development time, thereby hampering my contribution to the war effort among other things.

Mc-G is laying down the law as all the while she'd scrubbing at her blackened face with some sort of magical balm that's supposedly guaranteed to remove unwanted blemishes and the like.

Mc-G rolls her eyes and snaps out. "I daresay the public as a whole will enjoy the reprieve as surely as Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

That said, she resumes scrubbing at her face with a balm soaked wash cloth in one hand and huffing in exasperation at the mirror she's holding in the other.

She's so incensed that she actually used the V-Word without noticing.

"Fine " I grouse, adding sarcastically. "And here I was gonna be kind and develop a better unguent to remove age spots."

Mc-G's hand pauses in mid scrub.

Now,.. I'm not sure if it was accidental magic or if she really did glare at her mirror with such ferocity that it shattered in fright. All I know for sure is that I'm barred from the brief reprieve of enjoying the Halloween Feast and Ball and my bum is aching something fierce from a "fifteen inch willow wand, strong, yet wispy- perfect for transfiguration".

That and corporal punishment!

So here I am tramping along behind Filch whilst he's reminiscing over the 'good old days' when floggings and chain were the approved detriment for misbehavior.

Apparently, this is punishment as I'm informed we're going to be cleaning out Green House-Eight which is off limits to students as it supposedly houses all manner of dangerous plants.

Two hours into it, and despite the work, I'm fervently enjoying myself. Filch may be a lot of things, but ignorant isn't one of them, at least not where plants and herbs are concerned.

The man's a goldmine of information.

Not only does the man know and readily reveal the subtle, most often over looked properties of many plants and herbs, but he's actually spewing out said knowledge in a non-stop monotone as I'm gathering information as well as a snippet here and a plucked leaf or two there.

"It does what?" I find myself surprisingly intrigued.

"It dilates the blood vessels, permanently so to relive forms of hypertension." Filch repeats the first part of his lecture whilst I'm staring lecherously at said plant.

"No,.. not that, the last bit at the end?" I clarify.

Filch snickers at that, reiterating.. "In larger doses it relieves forms of male impotence, miraculously so. In too large a dose the condition can become permanent and I'm informed- quite debilitating, though some would claim in a good way."

_UN-BE-LIEVE-ABLE!_ I'm standing here holding a little nothing weed that could possibly win the war.

Think about it? How many Death Eaters out there are women? Not many I'd wager.

You're not following are you?

Am I the only one who sees the big picture?

Where do I come up with this stuff? Is this all due to the vampire bite enhancing my powers of concentration or is it my 'Marauder' genes kicking in with a vengeance?

If it's the vampire bite then I really must send them a 'thank you' gift of some sort. What would a vampire like... hmmm, probably virgin blood. Virgins, eh? Well, you're not gonna find a lot of those around here, save maybe Professor Mc-G.

I'm tempted to the bleed the old girl dry for what she did to me with that wand of hers, which, by the way, she broke over my heavily bruised arse!

No, ... I've a more fitting punishment in mind; one commensurate, ironically so, with the offending crime.

Use your wand like that on me will you?

Waitaminute,... where was I,... oh yeah,.. 'the bigger picture'.

"Mr. Filch, sir." I simper politely, and oddly I mean it as the man's opened my eyes to a whole new avenue of fun,.. er, I mean,.. possible opportunities to _relieve_ the war effort. "May I harvest some of this weed for a bit of private experimentation?"

The grin that splits the git's face is priceless as, too late, I wince at my own choice of words.

"Sorry to hear that, Potter." The man wrongfully assumes apologetically, causing my face to pale. "Take all you need." He continues to sympathesize. "Dirty shame, one so young and all, poor lad."

"Oh,... no, you don't understand it's not for me." I try to dissuade. I can't let a rumor like this get out as my life is already screwed up enough as it is.

Filch pats my shoulder in consolation. "I know, I know,.. it's for a friend. It's good of you to look out for your mates, probably that poor Weasley bloke? Surprise that, what with him being a Weasley and all?" He falsely commiserates throwing a wink of understanding my way as he turns his head to consider the far wall, giving me ample opportunity for a bit of harvesting.

My face is purpling in embarrassment, but I decide to quit while I'm ahead and gather what I need whilst I can.

It's late by the time we finish and head back to the castle. Initially, I was lamenting having blindly gone ahead with the 'howling hemorrhoid' candles as what I've got in mind is gonna blow their shorts off- literally.

Now, I'm thinking the candles might have been a stroke of clairvoyant genius as they'll help single out intended Death Eater targets for phase two.

Now I just have to devise a delivery system once I've thoroughly experimented with and enhanced the potential of my find which I've lovingly dubbed 'Wicked Wanker Weed'!


	6. Chapter 6: The Christmas Card

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter Six: The Christmas Card**

"_Those fingers in my hair. Her looks beyond compare. I can't help but stop and stare..._

_It's like.. witchcraft!"_

I'm crooning away on stage like a magical version of Frank Sinatra.

Dumbles, in what he described as an act of _mercy_, allowed me a one night dispensation to attend the Halloween Dance, but forbade me from actually dancing with anyone as I have to be seen as being "punished". It's for my own good apparently?

It's all about political correctness, he says.

I'm thinking it's just another of his petty torments.

With the thought that; 'when life gives you lemons, make lemonade', I decided to make the best of a bad situation.

If you can't dance- sing.

I must not be half bad as all the males are rolling their eyes at me or grumbling death threats as the female contingent are mobbing the front of the stage pawing at me whenever I venture too close, which I accidentally do quite often, though I try not to play favorites as there's a lot of elbowing and jockeying for position.

Ah,.. my fans...

I finish my set and make my apologies, amidst disappointed groans, as I beat a hasty retreat in the hopes of avoiding Professor Mc-G who had been shooting me death glares initially, but at seeing the female contingent's positive response, she's developed that strange facial tic that Dumble's usually sports when dealing with me.

Speaking of, where is Dumbledo... Uh-OH...

His professorship is waiting for me just behind the curtain.

"My office, Mr. Potter." He demands without preamble.

"What again?" I grouse, arguing.. "What about an encore? I was thinking I'd do Queen's 'It's a kind of Magic' only change a few lyrics to draw attention to my plight in having to turn down so many female advances this evening, something like.. "It's kind of tra-gic?" I make quotation marks in the air to accentuate my suggestion.

The old man's staring at me over the top of his glasses and that damn twitch at the corner of his eye is back. It's almost hypnotic. I swear the twitch is mimicking his pulse, or maybe it's mine.

Hey, is this what a vampiric glamour is supposed to be? How am I doing this...?

I'm just pondering the possibilities for a potentially new found ability when a sharp twisting pain grabs my ear, literally so!

"Hey, Owe!" I bark in alarm.

"Come along Mr. Potter!" Mc-G commands in clipped tones as she drags me toward the staircase to her own office.

"You can't do this to me? It's physical abuse." I howl in pain and outrage as she drags me along. "I've got my rights. Somebody call the school governors! Call the Minister of Magic! Hell, call the queen!" my voice echoes down the hallway as she continues to drag me along, completely undaunted by my protests.

We arrive and she flings me toward her desk with a last contemptible twist of my ear lobe for good measure.

"That'll be quite enough of that, Mr. Potter." she scathes as I rub my poor throbbing ear.

"Oh, you'll be sorry, you will." I threaten impotently as she rolls her eyes at me. "I'll sue, I will. I'm calling my barrister first thing. Pennyfeather, Pennyfeather and Flynn will make short work of your old Scottish hide. BY this time next week I'll be wearing McGonagal tartan and you'll naked as a... Oh-My-God...!" I begin to wretch at the mental image.

"I'm gonna be sick...urg!" I'm holding my stomach and gagging, trying not to sick up, though I don't know why I'm fighting it as it's only her office.

A strange mellow haze comes over me and I realize the old girl's hit me with a calming charm.

"Are you quite finished then?" she asks smugly, still fingering her new wand, which I've had the displeasure to find out is even sturdier than the last one,.. more wispy too.

I back away from her, warily eyeing her wand and keeping my backside out of reach. "W-What do you want?" I stammer uncertainly, not liking the strange gleam in her eye.

"Come now, Mr. Potter,.. er, Har-ry.." she drawls my name suggestively, fluttering her eyes in a strangely unsettling fashion. "There's no reason to act so coy... it's just us.. here..."

That said, Mc-G begins to slowly unbutton her blouse, smirking evilly.

"W-What're you... w-why are you...no!" I gasp in dread, taking a panicked step toward her office door, but she blocks my path.

The last thing I remember, before apparently fainting, was her casting a contraceptive charm.

I woke up to a strange... wet, languidly caressing sensation that I find wholly pleasant until I open my eyes.

"Ughhh...NOOOO!" I scream, passing out again, leaving an amused Madam Pomfrey to finish my sponge bath unfettered.

**A week later...**

It's only been a week and I'm as jumpy as a cat in room full of rocking chairs. I'm going everywhere disillusioned practically 24/7. I sit in the back of all my classes trying to be as nondescript as is inhumanly possible, but they're still after me. If it isn't my head of house trying to steal into my room in the middle of the night, it's that crazy bint of a school medi-witch insisting I come in for a _thorough examination,_ wink- wink.

Then there's Professor Sinistra intentionally leaning over my shoulder to give me detailed instruction with a more than ample view of her attributes... which I must admit are quite impressive.

_No- don't go there! Bad Harry, Bad!_

Then, to top it all off; I've got Trelwaney popping up behind every suit of armor leering at me from behind those coke-bottle glasses of hers, predicting that her and I will be intimate lovers!

Gah!

After that, I got desperate and went to Dumbles to plead his intervention on my behalf.

Fat lot 'o good that did me? The old wanker had the nerve to put on a Sinatra album and ask to slow dance with me.

The Horror! The Horror!

Thank God it's the weekend. I donned my invisibility cloak first thing this morning and stole out of the castle for a bit of a kip beneath my favorite tree by the lake.

I was awoken sometime just before noon by the stealthy whisperings of two smarmy witches gloating over the more than favorable results of their little conspiracy devised for yours truly.

"My word , Minerva, it's working better that we could have ever expected. I thought the poor boy would have a stroke when Sybil jumped out from behind the fountain and told young master Potter that he and she were destined for twelve children so they'd better start at once to fill their quota!"

Minerva McGonagal wiped tears of laughter from her eyes as she chuckled along with her friend., adding.. "Albus said young Harry bolted from his office screaming in terror when he asked him to autograph his er,.. personal wand-Ha!"

"It's working though. It's really working." Poppy Pomfrey cheered. "I think you've managed to declaw our young lion and take back the school in one genius stroke."

Minerva nodded her gratitude for the compliment. "It just occurred to me one day that maybe what the rascal needed was a good sound dose of his own medicine. He was twitching so badly during Transfiguration on Friday that I almost took pity on him and called the whole thing off. Almost!"

The two witches snorted at that as they continued their late morning walk oblivious to the audience that had overheard their conspiratorial conversation.

Narrowed green eyes watched the departing backs of the two villainous cows.

A cruel smile creased his previously anxiety ridden countenance.

_Two can play at that game._

* * *

><p>"Double- double toil and trouble<p>

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Fillet of fenny snake and toe of frog,

wool of bat and tongue of dog.

Adder's fork and blind worm's sting,

Lizard's leg and howlet's wing.

Like a Hell-broth boil and bubble! Ee..he-he-he!"

I've even got the witch's cackle down to a tee.

I love a little Shakespeare when I'm brewing and what better prose to brew to then the witches of "Macbeth"-Scene four.

I did mention that my concentration's improved since my little what...accident?

Me, I'm really coming into my own and finding it a blessing. Sure, I'm ostracized, but hey, wasn't I before?

The only difference I see is that now they've actually got a reason to be wary around me and once my latest stroke of genius comes to fruition, I'm rather sure that select members of the staff will never be wholly comfortable around me again.

_Viola!_

I've brewed perfection.

Genius, sheer genius. Dare I say, Super genius?.. I like the sound of that,... SUPER GENIUS!

Yeah, Yeah, I know I'm quoting Wile E. Coyote, but hey, it fits.

That notion should have been my first warning clue as the coyote's adventures always ended in mayhem.

What is it that I've created one might ask? Why it's the witches answer to loneliness, despair,... wantonness.

I took a little bit of innocuous weed, that I collected on one of detention's with Filch, (which I've come to relish as learning expeditions), and taken a seemingly innocent brew for male enhancement and made a few altering , er,.. _enhancements_ of my own devise.

I wish Snape was alive,... _No, I don't, but you get my metaphor_. Anyway, I'd love to get Snivellus's take on my masterpiece, purely for posterity's sake, of course.

Well fans, what I've got here in a single solitary beaker is a concentrated form of _nitroglcerin_. I'm actually laughing at the metaphor.

Not the kind of nitroglicerin that goes bang! The good kind of **bang**!

You're not getting it again, are you? I mean _bang_!

Still not? Never mind,... you'll see.

I've been diligently studying and brewing all week and I deserve a break, what with it being Friday night and all.

By break, I mean break. I've played the victim long enough and it's time Professor Mc-G and I have it out.

I intend to take our relationship to the next level.

Pacing along innocently around her office on the third floor the lovely, albeit, mature professor in question takes the bait.

By that I mean,.. she grabs me by the arm and hauls me into her empty classroom. I shudder in the certain knowledge that her room is a tribute to transfiguration.

By that, I mean its décor has been transfigured into what one would expect a sultan's harem to embody. The floor's covered in thick Persian carpets and poufs just large enough for two to , er,.. _lounge_ upon?

The tinkling of symbols and the rustle of beads assaults my senses, that, and about enough heady incense to permanently alter one's sense of smell for a lifetime.

If the assault on my ears and nose wasn't enough, that which my eyes was forced to endure was reason enough to promote clinical- hysterical blindness!

Prof. Mc-G is dancing the 'dance of seven veils' around me as I shudder in dread.

If it hadn't been for a half dozen _calming draughts_, I'd have run screaming into the night. As grateful as I was for that bit of foresight, I'm that much more grateful for the half bottle of anti-acid I downed. My stomach's rumbling ominously in protest as the old strumpet's down to three veils and no, I won't say which three yet remain!

_Alright, Salome, two can play at this game._

She languidly slinks my way proffering a goblet of wine which I take a hesitant sip from , acting the frightened fawn she's hoping for.

Another veil wafts gently two the floor...Gulp.

Either Professor Mc-G has taken transfiguration to a whole unprecedented level, or,.. she's got the firmest...

_No! Bad Harry, Bad!_ _I'm gonna smoke a turd in hell for that one._

Despite my , er... _interest_, purely for curiosity's sake, mindyou, either that or that incense isn't just incense?

I start to sweat, literally and figuratively, which believe it or not, is all to the good.

Remember that little vial of er,.. _liquid nitroglycerin _ I'd brewed with wanton witches in mind? Well, let's just say that _wanton_ is the desired effect.

What I developed is a rather stimulating cologne that reacts to certain, ah,.. _male hormonal states,_ in that it alters to an even more stimulating aerosol with the female of the species in mind.

Still not getting it, eh?

Fine, I developed a sweat inducing aerosol delivery system that stimulates female ovulation.

Seriously? You're still not catching on?

It's a potent aphrodisiac delivered via air in a pheromone type delivery system.

Oh, for cryin out loud... it's a roofie ! Hence the _liquid nitroglycerin_ reference.

Seriously... not getting it?

You know, liquid nitroglycerin... as in; "you'll get a **bang** out of it"!

Anyway,... I can tell that my product's starting to work in that I'm definitely feeling some of the side effects. That is,.. well,.. let's just say that it's getting hard to concentrate due to blood loss to the brain.

_Presto chango!_ Mc-G's eyes glaze over and she's panting like a dragon in a jalapeño field.

I catch the old girl in mid swoon, and disappointingly.. mid sixth veil extraction.

_Maybe just a little peek just for curiosity's sake... Wait, what am I saying? _

_Bad, Harry-Bad!_

It's just going midnight when the old girl starts to come around.

Her eyes flutter open and the cobwebs tentatively clear to find the two of us nestled-_naked _beneath a silk blanket, strewn over a purple velvet pouf.

Her veils are littered around the room, all except the seventh which I'm wearing proudly, for a badge of honor, as a head band .

I stretch, feigning waking myself, just as the light of dawning horror reflects in her ever widening eyes.

"Jees, professor... you really take your teaching seriously?" I drawl pointedly. "I wasn't sure you'd be satisfied with my performance until I finally got it right that fifth time."

"Gah!" Mc-G gawks, looking as if she'd choking on her tongue.

I take the opportunity to go for the throat. "I..I'm not sure I got the contraceptive charm right though? Was it 'swish flick'... or more of a point and shoot motion? Oh, well,... I suppose it doesn't matter as a responsible witch like yourself is undoubtedly on 'the potion', right?"

"URGGG!... OMIGOD?"

"No **sixth** time, then?" I call disappointedly after her fleeing form as she tears from the room.

_I wonder if she realizes she's naked? _

The next morning...

"Are you sure, Poppy? There must be something? Some charm or potion?" McGonagal begs the school matron desperately.

Pomfrey smirks indulgently at her friend. "Really, Minerva,.. aren't you a little old to be considering such silly notions? Women our age, even witches, rarely or ever conceive? You're worrying yourself needlessly."

She lectures, adding pointedly. "Besides,.. I'm sure a responsible witch such as yourself used a _contraceptive charm_ at the very least, or better yet, '_the potion'_?

"URGG!... OMIGOD?"

I'm sitting here enjoying a lovely lunch Sunday afternoon. The students are conversing and chortling happily. The teachers appear content to chat among themselves, except...

Poor Professor Mc-G seems to be having trouble finding her appetite. I've noted she keeps taking up her utensil before sighing disinterestedly and pushing her plate away. The school matron keeps casting worried looks her way as she encourages the poor women to try and eat something.

I'm feeling in a supportive mood so I cast a pointed gaze Mc-G's way and after a bit of a patient wait, she finally, tremulously chances a look up and our eyes meet.

I offer her a friendly, if a bit enthusiastic, _wink_ of support that seems to not have the desired reassuring effect I was shooting for as the poor women goes screaming from the Great Hall with Madam Pomfrey bolting in alarm after her.

_Hmm, that was unsettling. Hey, I know,.. maybe I should chance a personal visit to express my concerns and well wishes?_

_I'll bring her flowers and a bit of candy... that always helps a person feel better. Maybe, I'll wear a bit of that new cologne she seems to like so much!_

Here it is Thursday morning already and things have taken a decided turn toward the boring. Not that I mind, grant you. Things have finally calmed down and I'm able to attend classes in relative anonymity these past few days. I don't know what it is, but it seems the female teachers are decidedly avoiding me at every turn.

Maybe I'm just being paranoid and seeing conspiracies where none exist?

I never thought I'd say this but I'm actually starting to miss all the attention I was getting previously. Well, not Trelwaney maybe, but, I still can't quite get that whole seven veil thing out of my head. There's got to be some way to show my appreciation, but the woman won't bid me the time of day, let alone take a moment to consider one of my many entreaties.

I know,.. why didn't I think of this before?

I hurry back to my dorm after class to collect parchment and quill as I've got a serious letter to write to the editor of my favorite magazine.

_Dear, Play Wizard... I never thought this could happen to me..._

* * *

><p>It's strange, but here I am just a month later and a few short days from Christmas break and suddenly I'm everyone's point of interest again. It seems I can't walk through the school without some stuttering fifth year asking me to sign his "<em>friend's<em>" copy of Play Wizard, or to have former friends wanting to be buddies again and share a 'friendly' story or two over a butter bear, wink-wink.

I'd ask Professor Mc-G her opinion on the change, but she's taken an earlier than usual holiday break- _for personal reasons_.

_Hmm,.. I wonder if it was a mistake to sign my letter to the editor of Play Wizard? _

That might explain the student's sudden interest, but the staff?

I don't know what all the fuss is about amongst the staff? It's not as if I gave any pointed clues to whom I was referring in my letter.

I merely described the encounter with a rather 'shapely elder witch that subsequently _purred _like a kitten'. They merely inferred it was one with eyeglass markings around its eyes.

Actually, I'm rather surprised by all the extra interest from the witches among the students. I can't fathom what that's about though there have been some rather pointed comments alluding to a 'fifth time'-from Lavender and Pravati's corner. Eye rolls and huffs of outrage from Hermione- go figure, and squeals and blushes from the younger years.

I'm sure all the unwanted attention will blow over by the end of the holidays, though it is rather strange the increased number of witches that are staying behind like me this year?

Ah, the first day of the Christmas break. A bit of a lie in, a filling and deliciously satisfying lunch and I'm up for a bit of sport.

What's it to be... an enchanted snowball fight with the Slytherins?...nah.

Revision and homework with the Ravenclaws?... certainly not!

Decorating and caroling with the Hufflepuffs?... puh-lease.

I know... Christmas is a time for visiting with those that have impacted our lives in some meaningful way.

Rub-Rub-Rub... I worry my fingers vigorously across my scar.

_Tom...Are you there...Tom? _

_Come on, Tom,... you can't still have your arse in an __**uproar **__over that whole' Howling Hemorrhoids' thing?_

_It's Christmas, Tom. You know? Caroling, Cookies and Catching up with old friends?_

_Tom,... I made a special batch of my 'secret santa' cookies just for you._

_Mint? _Came back a hopeful telepathic query over the link they shared.

_Of course, mint. Its Christmas isn't it? Two dozen mouth watering mint cookies just for you. _I cajole.

_Y-You're not just teasing again are you?_

_At Christmas? _Harry scoffed aghast at such a notion.

_Not just some horrid prank? Bella still complains incessantly that her arse still burns every time she squats._

Voldie was still cautiously skeptical and he couldn't blame him given their history.

_Nah... just a simple peace offering given the holiday. _

_I d-didn't get you anything. _Voldemort came back despondently.

_That's alright. Christmas is about giving, not receiving. Tell you what, if you truly feel that badly, how about a truce until after the holidays?_ Harry suggested.

_I...I don't know? I sort of promised my Death Eaters they could rape and pillage Hogsmeade on Christmas eve. Holiday shoppers, carolers,.. ah,... revelry!_

_Tempting, I'm sure._ Harry agreed in a sarcastic undertone. _But really, what's the point? I'll just have to retaliate with some new fiendish prank or other that'll make the whole hemorrhoid thing seem like a walk in the park._

_Walk in the park! I lost three lesser, but adequate, Death Eaters to blood loss and another fifty were laid up for weeks, not including the others you so cleverly hunted down when they foolishly sought aid through St. Mungos._

_Can you blame me?_

_Begrudgingly,.. no." _Voldemort answered with a hint of appreciation in his telepathic voice as he complimented further. _I must pay homage where due,... a stroke of genius that._

_Most kind. If it helps any, I tested something related along those lines on Dumbles and the rest of the school._

There was a long pause before a telepathic snort came followed by a chortle of.. _It does actually.. thank you._

Sensing the time was right, Harry pressed on.. _Now,... how about those cookies and a cease fire til after the holidays?_

_If the cookies are just another one of your clever schemes...? _Voldemort intimated the implied threat.

_I assure you the cookies are just that..Cookies._

_Hmm, then I give you my word that I and my minions will not pursue any hostilities until after the holiday season._

_Swear on your magic?_

_Oh,.. alright,.. I swear._

_Thanks, Tom. Just for that,... I'm even gonna make you a Christmas card._

_I'm touched._

_Merry Christmas, Tom._

_Merry Christmas, Pot,...er, H-Harry._

Harry dropped their telepathic link by reestablishing his vampiric occulomency screens.

He was smirking manically as he slapped his hands together, rubbing them expectantly in fevered anticipation.

Not only had Voldie agreed to cease hostilities in exchange for cookies, but he'd sworn and oath to such on his magic.

It was a pity that his darkness' agreement never took into account the _Christmas card?_

* * *

><p>Later in the Gryffindor common room, our own Harry Potter is working diligently on the final touches of what's sure to be a Christmas to remember.<p>

Harry's singing to himself as he carefully cuts ribons and designs sleigh bells todecorate his card.

"_Oh the weather outside is frightful, but making a card for Vol-die's delightful..." _

"What're you making, Harry?" Lavender Brown asks breathlessly from over his shoulder, her ample bosom just happens to be resting its tantalizing weight on said shoulder.

"A Christmas card, of course." He chirrups merrily in reply.

"Oh...is it for me?" Lavender gasps hopefully, pressing even harder against him, her hand reaching toward the open box of 'secret santa' cookies waiting to be wrapped and card applied before sending off for delivery .

"Certainly not." Harry scoffed, slapping her hand gently in warning. "This is much too innocuous a gift for such a lovely young lady as yourself. I think you deserve something of a more personal nature. Something that really shows one cares,.. as a friend, of course."

He couldn't see, from his vantage point, the crestfallen look that replaced the beaming expectation of moments before at the mere mention of 'a friend' in detailing their relationship.

Recovering her disappointment, but still not wholly undaunted, she whispered in his ear breathily. "What did you have in mind?"

Harry spun around, inhumanly fast, conjuring a sprig of mistletoe which he then dangles over their heads ...

"Something like this!" he exclaimed, pulling Lavender into his lap and swabbing her throat with his tongue; obviously checking for mononucleosis or strep infections as by the way Lavender was moaning, she was undoubtedly feeling unwell.

Finally satisfied that Lavender was free of infection, Harry halted his exam and deposited the swooning girl by the fire, suggesting...

"Get a good night's rest and I'll check on you again in the morning...'k?"

Lavender merely nodded dumbly to which Harry smiled in satisfaction. He gathered up his card and a few thoughtful charms and a bit of wrapping later...perfection! He skipped merrily out of the common room, heading for the owlery to send his gift, humming Christmas tunes as he went.

Hedwig flew down expectantly when he arrived, but he shooed her away explaining...

"This is far too mundane a job for you my lovely, besides I'll not chance you safety as Tom is notorious for 'killing the messenger' when he doesn't like the message. I have more important cards for you to deliver, when the weather improves, of course."

Hedwig puffed herself up regally at his subtle compliments and his thoughtfulness in looking after her safety.

"You there?" Harry shouted out to a large black raven off to the far side as no respecting owls would tolerate such in their immediate vicinity.

"I've a job for you. You're Theodore Nott's carrier pigeon, yes?"

The raven's red eyes glared malevolently back at the insult.

"Spare me." Harry snorted dismissively. "Lest you fancy winding up roasted squab, with mint relish, on Dumbledore's Christmas plate?"

The bird hopped down warily at that, extending its trembling leg.

"I thought not." Harry snorted as he tied his feather light charmed package to the bird's talon.

"Off with you to Voldemort's lair, which I've no doubt you're acquainted with."

The bird was about to take wing when Harry held it back instructing,.. "Oh, and wait for a reply after."

With that the bird took to wing.

"Almost feel sorry for it,.. almost." Harry chuckled, knowing Theodore Nott would be seeking a new familiar soon.

Some hours later...

Voldemort had just relieved the raven of its package which, despite their agreement, he was cautiously unwrapping; partly for safety's sake and partly because the ribbon work was absolutely beautiful and seemed a shame to tear asunder thoughtlessly.

With a gulp of trepidation he lifted the cover of the box, half expecting it to blow up in his face.

Inside he found a mound of delicious smelling cookies nestled beneath a hand wrought card adorned with that same exquisite ribbon work and paper cut out sleigh bells. For a moment he'd almost thought he spied the ribbon twitching as if it had a life of its own but he quickly dismissed such a notion as a mere trick of the light.

He opened the card and read the pleasant, if somewhat vague greeting within...

_**Dearest, Tom...**_

_**The gift of peace is truly all one can ask for.**_

_**Try not to get too **__**wrapped**__** up in the holidays!**_

_**Deepest regards, Harry**_

_**P.S. I've enclosed a little something for the Death Eaters to brighten their holiday!**_

He'd just finished reading the card when the ribbon on top of the card sprang to life and it's tapped the card and the paper bells leapt off the page and began to chime out a Christmas carol as the ribbon pitched to and fro conducting the music as the bells danced in the air before him.

Initially alarmed, he settled quickly and enjoyed the show, marveling at exquisite charm work, in spite of himself.

He was actually starting to like Potter. It was a pity that he had to kill him.

The bell choir ended and Voldemort applauded unthinkingly and the ribbon bowed appreciatively.

Clapping his hands proved a mistake, however.

On cue, the sleigh bells launched themselves at the unsuspecting Dark Lord and wrapped around his throat, eventually, inexorably winding upward and into the dark lord's ears whilst the man screamed his horror powerless to do anything as the ribbon had bound his arms to his sides.

Once the bells had wended their way entirely into the man's ears, the ribbon leapt from his hands and shot up his nose.

In a herculean effort spurred by panic, the Dark Lord grabbed the tail of the bright red ribbon and was able to arrest its invasion.

It was at that moment that the sleigh bells rang out, another tune, within the depths of the poor sod's mind.

He slapped his hands ineffectually to his ears, trying to ward off the maddening sound, but in so doing he left the ribbon free to complete its work and it shot straight up the man's nostrils.

"Urgh, arg,... gaah... OMIGOD...**It's touching my brain!"**

His Death Eaters alerted to the their master's inhuman howls and shrieks of pain and terror flew into the room with wands drawn, only to find their master pitching about wildly, pulling at his ears and clawing at his face.

Though worried she'd provoke his rage... his faithful lieutenant; Bella Lestrange stepped forward and asked with no little concern in a trembling voice...

"M-Master?"

Voldemort turned wild eyed toward the cowering woman. He seemed to be struggling to even form words when all of a sudden he burst into song...

"_Sleigh bells ring can't ya listen,... In the lane snow is glistening..."_

"_It's a beautiful sight, were happy tonight..."_

"_**Walking in a winter wonderland!"**_the rest of the Death Eaters joined in cheerfully, helping themselves to his forgotten cookies.


	7. Chapter 7: Home from the Holidays

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**Chapter 7: Home from the Holidays**

"Well...?" Dumbledore glared from across his desk, drumming his fingers impatiently.

"Well what?" I return innocently as for once I truly am. Well, I'm not really, but at least not for this particular infraction as it turns out.

Dumble's sighs wearily in that long suffering way of his that I've come to relish. "Explain to me just what the ice rink is for in the Great Hall?"

"Initially it was for the preliminaries and last night's short program for the men's figure skating competition."I answer as if it were perfectly obvious, explaining further... "I didn't score as well on my artistic style as I'd hoped, personally I think the judges robbed me of a point or two, but,.. I managed to hold onto second place going into the long program. If I nail the triple axle that I've been working on it should net me the gold medal."

Strange, that facial tick has returned. I haven't seen Dumble's twitch like this since last fall, but then again; I've been on detention a lot and we haven't had a chance to chat like we're used to.

As per Professor Mc G's original order; I served my detentions, (with distinction I might add), for the duration of the fall semester and as of the first day of the winter hols, I'm a free man once again.

Of course, I've been spending my new found free time catching up on course work. That and training for the first annual Hogwart's Figure Skating Competition.

Seizing the opportunity, his obvious distraction has afforded, I clarify my position. "Now, I don't figure I'll be good enough for the Olympics as such, but with a win I'm hoping I'll attract the attention of a few professional scouts, (that are rumored to be in tonight's audience), and maybe land myself a comfortable gig in the ice capades,... though I won't lower myself to performing in one of those outrageous costumes like a "snoopy" suit or some such nonsense." I amend further, shrugging distastefully at the notion.

I wait patiently for some sort of acknowledgement, but if anything, the old fellow seems to have gone on a vacation and left his body behind.

Waiting...Waiting... Waiting...

_Hmm, he's still not back yet?_

A quick check at my watch tells me I've only a little over an hour before tonight's program begins and I've still got some alterations to sort out on my costume.

_I better knock and see whose home?_

"You are coming aren't you?" I beseech worriedly. "It's going to be hard enough without Professor McGonagal there. I simply can't imagine going out there and performing in front of all those people without at least one of you in attendance. What's the point if the people you admire can't be with you to inspire and motivate you to be more than you are?"

Not for the first time I find my eyes drifting toward the vacant seat to his right which his deputy head mistress would usually occupy. I miss the old girl more than I thought I would. She's my sole inspiration to perform well in the competition and I would hate myself if I let her down.

I nod forlornly toward the vacant seat. "I only wish she could be here to watch me skate, but that's just not possible what with her being hospitalized and under sedation to treat some _nervous disorder_, or other_._ It's_ s_trange how that came on so unexpectantly?"

"Ach... Gaa..!"

_Oh, no_,..I think he's choking as his face is purpling and he's gasping for air.

_Must be one of those damned lemon drops?_

"Professor...Professor?! Are you choking? Can I help you?" I ask hurriedly, desperate to help.

I suppose in retrospect that I should have waited to see if he could've effectively coughed up the obstruction, but in a crisis situation it's hard to second guess such things when anxiety takes over and your adrenalin kicks in.

"Don't worry, Professor,... I know the Heimlich!" I bark reassuringly, grabbing up his headship around the waist and begin to vigorously administer abdominal thrusts.

"Urggg...ughhh...gaak!" The professor seems to be struggling to cough up something.

I, obviously, take that as a good sign and redouble my efforts.

**CRUNCH**

_Uh-Oh_

"**AHHHH!" **The man shrieks in pain. The good news is that his airway now appears clear. The bad news is that I think I broke a few of his ribs in my zeal to save my idol's life.

I still haven't quite got a handle on my enhanced vampiric strength, and now look what I've gone and done?

His Dumbleship has paled dramatically; he's diaphoretic and his breathing is labored.

I think he's going into shock?

_Think, Harry? Think!_

In a moment of inspiration; I remember reading somewhere that another jolt to the system might rouse a person and prevent them from slipping into shock.

"Sorry about this?" I apologize anxiously and not wanting to risk waiting any longer; I plant the toe of my boot between the Headmaster's legs.

"Ai-Yeee!"

_Wow, that worked!_ He came right out of it and is hoping around his office like a toad on a hot plate.

Can't say as I blame him as I'm sure I put more into that kick than was strictly necessary, but like I said before... _anxiety and adrenalin_.

"Eer...ugh,.."

_Uh-Oh,... why is he gagging like that?_

"Urp!"

"Ach...ah...geh..." Dumbledore's hands shoot to his throat. His eyes are wide in alarm as he gasps in vain struggling to breathe again.

_Oh, no,... The poor man obviously threw up and now he's aspirating on the vomit!_

"Don't worry, Professor,...I'll save you!" I shout grabbing up Dumbles to reestablish the Heimlich again.

The headmaster is flailing at me, trying to throw me off.

_The poor man... lack of oxygen has him panicking in error_.

_One- _"Urggg..."

_Two- _" Gahhh..."

_Three- "_Pi-thoo.."

_Well what do you know? It was a lemon drop. Those lemon drops have been the ruin of many a good man. Not that Dumbledore didn't contribute or should I say –benefit from that particular sordid conspiracy in the first place._

I'd rather not go back into **that** as the whole thing still gives me the willies.

Dumbledore's turning towards me and while I admit a _thanks _would be nice, I was unprepared for him to vomit on yours truly just before his eyes rolled up and he passed out in a heap at my feet.

A wandless _scourgify_ later and we're off to see Madam Pomfrey. It seems like only yesterday I was a patient of the good madam. Hey, wait a minute,.. it was only yesterday.

Anyway,... after a lengthy evaluation of his headship, Madam Pomfrey notifies me, which is a kind way to say accuses me of contributing to his headship's current ill health.

Now there's gratitude for you? You break a single withered testicle and right away you're vilified. It's not like he had any use for them in the first place, which I pointed out.

Some people just can't look at things logically.

Pomfrey, finally winds herself down from the tongue lashing she feels is merited by my,... what did she call it...? Oh, yeah; 'my lack of common sense, let alone compassion'.

Compassion? What does she call all that drama I went through to save the poor sod's life? Besides... it isn't as if he doesn't have a spare for the one I broke?

After everything is all said and done the bottom line is: Dumbledore won't be making my final performance at tonight's program nor is he likely to resume his headmaster duties for the remainder of the holidays.

This is to say, in lieu of responsible authoritative personnel, yours truly is in charge of Hogwarts for the time being.

At least that's how I interpreted her whining regarding the rest of the teaching staff having vacated the school for the holidays for much needed relaxation.

Can't understand what all that's about? It's not like they work a full year. Not that they don't get paid a full year, but let's not go there and get the teachers union down on me as Voldie's bad enough.

I see this as an opportunity to expand on my role as a surrogate defense against the dark arts teacher.

I nailed the teaching thing, so how hard could administration be? Besides, school's not even in session right now. All I have to do is preside over meals. Do a few patrols at night, which I seem to have an affinity for. It must be something to do with the whole half- vampire thing.

I digress.

I'll probably need to order some supplies and schedule some extracurricular activities, (for the children in house during the holidays).

Young minds crave diversion, hence the figure skating competition. Everyone will be so pleased that the finals will be held as planned.

Gadzooks! That reminds me...

My first official act as interim headmaster will be to authorize payment for our own Zamboni ice machine.

The one we were using was a rental, but with the interest this competition has generated I feel it warranted for us to invest in purchasing our own equipment.

Maybe we could even expand on it and start our own winter sports program? I'm thinking an ice hockey league, maybe a downhill run ... we've certainly got enough staircases for it.

* * *

><p><strong>Several days later...<strong>

"That's bollicks!"

"I'm the judge and I say it's a foul. You didn't clear the fifth flag on your run therefore it's a two tenths second infraction." I declare, glaring right back at Justin Finch Fletchy's angry mug.

"Sure big man, win a gold skating like a sissy and right away you think your all that." Fletchy scathes.

I roll my eyes as it's not the first irate athlete I've had arguing calls this week. "Jealousy's an ugly thing. Fletchy." I shoot back, reminding him that... "The only reason you're even sore is because you didn't make the compulsories and had to set your sights on downhill."

"That's a lie! The fix was in the minute the Gryffindor golden boy laced his skates. Put on a pair of skies why don't ya?"Justin grouses, but it's starting to sound more petty and whinny by the second.

"If I do who'll judge?" I challenge back.

"Collin can judge."

"Collin's doing the photo spread for the World of Wizarding Sports." I remind him.

"And mister big-shot just happened to make the cover." Justin snaps back.

"You win gold you make covers. Take your deduction and take your seat, Fletchy." I order having wasted enough time on the pretentious git.

"Alright,... snow's a melting and the Ravenclaw's are up."I call out resetting my stop watch.

What had started out as a nice friendly winter sports tournament has turned into a cut throat athletic competition. Once the Prophet got wind of it and published a general interest story it wasn't long before things snowballed to the point of where the WWS got involved. Once the World of Wizarding Sports sanctioned us then the sponsors and agents started sniffing around.

Now, I'm dealing with temperamental athletes and irate coaches. Things had been going so well initially, but that's the price of celebrity for you.

At least the winter program will finish with the slalom and then we can get back to a nice quiet school curriculum. I hope by then Dumble's will be feeling better.

Dumbledore had been released from the infirmary a few days ago, but then he suffered a relapse of sorts. I remember it as if it was only yesterday. There I was driving along on the school's new Zamboni whistling a merry tune one minute and the next Dumble's is looming over me.

No twinkling eyes. No appreciation for a stellar performance in his behalf whilst he even a congratulation on my having taken the gold in the Men's Figure Skating.

Even Voldemort had the good grace to send me a note after. Course,.. it was _riddled_ with ill intent-HA.

Get it,... it was _riddled,_ as in Tom _Riddle- _he-he-he.

You're not getting it- seriously?

Anyway, the note was _riddled_ with curses, but hey, it's the thought that counts.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore rages turning an interesting shade of puce. He's standing in front of me flailing his arms to halt my progress.

_Isn't it obvious? I mean really,... I'm driving a Zamboni for crying out loud._

"I'm laying down a fresh layer of ice before tonight's game, obviously." I return blandly and clarifying further. "The Winter Warriors are taking on the Ice Vikings in a curling exhibition."

"A what?" The old man grumbles with a puzzled expression.

"You know,.. it's that thing they do with the brooms . It's kind of like shuffleboard only more exciting."I explain.

"Shuffleboard?" Dumbledore mumbles vacantly, appearing at a loss.

Maybe if I help him along? "They're two of the best teams in the country. Tonight's program should be a real corker. Both teams have graciously offered to donate their share of the proceeds to charity. I suggested it go into research to find viable treatments and perhaps even cures for wizarding dementia and other related anxiety and neurological disorders. The whole thing was inspired by and is being done in your and Professor McGonagal's behalf. The Prophet's running a front page article in this Sunday's edition to draw the public's attention to these heartbreaking afflictions. "

_Odd,... that twitch is back again. I thought Pomfrey cleared him? _

I hop down from the Zamboni and gently guide the poor fellow back to the infirmary. It's just too much too soon. Perhaps he'll be ready to resume his duties once the holidays pass and things get back to normal around here?

I hope so. It's bad enough without Professor McG, but to lose our venerable headmaster too would be a catastrophe.

Speaking of McG, the last reports weren't good. Fortunately, in my role as interim headmaster, I'm kept apprised on the status of all teaching personnel. The latest reports I received regarding Minerva McGonagal were somewhat more discouraging then I'd hoped.

It seems she's undergoing intense psychotherapy for the treatment of obsessive sexual deviation.

I should have seen this coming. Hermione,.. McGonagal,.. there's definitely a pattern here.

They have the poor woman on a potion regimen to alleviate her related anxiety and control some of her more unsavory impulses. Her healers have asked if I could visit, something about emersion therapy or some such?

I just hope it helps.

Anyway, I better get back to my judging duties as it's a very responsible charge, but I think I'm up to it, after all, the headmaster gig has been a snap so far.

* * *

><p><strong>After the holidays...<strong>

Well, things really didn't quiet down after the holidays like I thought they would. I had irate parents on the floo complaining about their children's scores during the winter competition. I swear, some of these folk are worse than those gits who are always heckling the umpire at a children's softball league.

You'd think their lives depended on junior getting the gold?

Anyway, Dumbledore was cleared and resumed his duties in the nick of time to deal with the whole mess. Which was a good thing as I've not got the time what with all the interviews and having to teach Transfiguration now.

I don't know what all the fuss was about? Dumbles seemed to indicate that having to take over Professor Mc G's classes was some sort of penance or such. I suppose it's because he's holding back on paying me anything which is a crock. It's not that I need the money or anything. it's just the principal of the thing.

The students won't take me as seriously if I'm not given the same responsibilities **and **privileges as the other professors.

So here I am teaching my own sixth year class and just as I predicted; I'm not being shown the same respect that the other professors enjoy at what is arguably the finest school of magic in the European theatre.

Durmstang was making a run at usurping us from the top of the pyramid, but with Draco currently enrolled there, I'm hopeful their reputation will suffer along with his fellow students.

He just has that effect on people.

Anyway, I'm finishing a lecture on Human to animal transfiguration and whose hand should shoot into the air? You guessed it: Hermione- effing- Granger.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" I call on her maintaining a professional atmosphere regardless of my personal feelings.

"Er,..professor,...I'm not quite sure I understand the process of Animagus transformation? Perhaps if you could demonstrated for the class?" she simpers in her usual smug, 'know it all' fashion.

_What a cheap set up._

Or, it would have been if this was the old Harry Potter and not 'the boy who lived and half died'.

_Half lived?..._ I still haven't decided yet. I'm sort of leaning toward 'Vamp Versa' but then again, I figure I'll have to explain the premise more than I'd like.

"Certainly, Ms. Granger." I agree, stepping out from behind my podium.

"Y-You will?" she murmurs in half surprise, half disappointment that her set up is failing.

_Lucky girl,.. I've a special surprise for you and not of the pleasant sort that I gave Daphne Greengrass. Who by the by has become an official stalker._

I swear, I can't even set my arse on a boy's room toilet without Daphne Greengrass' singsong voice asking me from the next stall if I've got a 'square to spare'? Followed by a simpering giggle that I swear she picked up from Moaning Myrtle.

Wizards don't use toilet paper, doesn't she know that? A quick scourgify followed by a nice drying charm and we're 'clean as a baby's bottom'.

Incidently, what's up with that saying anyway? I mean, let's face it? A baby's bottom is anything, but clean.

"Professor...?"

Granger pulls me out of my stupor, which incidentally, the irony hits me like a bolt of lightning.

Now I know where Dumbles and McGonagal get it from. Teaching does give you dementia!

I digress.

Without further ado, I transform for my class' educational pleasure.

"Reeeee!" I squeal in my animagus' high pitched screech.

"EEEK!" Hermione screams and bolts from the class.

_Now what was all that about?_

_Hey,.. where did the rest of the class get to?_

I hastily change back and take a gander out of my classroom door.

Students are screaming in terror and fleeing down the hallway.

"Hey you lot! There's still ten minutes of class left?" I holler down the hall, but the sound of my voice only seems to lend wings to their terrified feet.

**Shortly after dinner...**

"Well...?"

Dumble's is drumming his fingers on his desktop expectantly.

I swear he knows just how grating that is.

"I fail to see how this is my fault?" I return innocently as this time I actually am.

No, really. I am this time, I swear.

" Mr. Potter..." Dumbledore drawls readying to lay down the law.

"Professor Potter." I correct him.

Hmmm, that tic is back again, only this time he's shuddering as if chilled or maybe disgusted. It's gotta be chilled as it is rather drafty in here.

Thoughtfully, I conjure a shawl and proceed to place it around his Dumbleship's shoulders.

"Don't you dare?"He howls, immediately slapping my hands away in a dead panic.

There's gratitude for you?

"Madam Pomfrey even says I saved you from choking and while I don't expect gratitude the least one could do is give a bloke the benefit of the doubt and be a little more gracious?" I lecture appropriately.

_Hey,.. this whole teaching thing is really growing on me._

"S-Sit down, Pott... er, P-Professor!" the old man gags that out as if he just swallowed something vile.

I eye him skeptically as I move his candy dish out of reach.

Dumbles' eyebrows go up questioningly

"Better safe than sorry." I caution.

It's the thought that counts, but as ungrateful as he is he only sighs in that withering way he's perfected.

"Explain to me why two of your sixth year students are being treated for various injuries after having falling down the stairs whilst fleeing in terror from your class?"

"Immaturity" I respond vacantly, reaching for a lemon drop in my distraction.

_Gaa, what did I almost do? _I pull my hand back from the dish as if scalded.

"Immaturity?" Dumbles parrots incredulously.

"I'm glad you agree."

"I wasn't agreeing. I said immaturity? That's phrased as a question mister,..er, Professor Potter." He hastily amends after my shooting him a glare.

Several minutes pass.

"Well?" the old man gasps impatiently.

"Well what?"

Impatiently he grounds out: "How do you explain the students having fallen in their fright, fleeing from your class as being "immature"?" he draws quotation marks pointedly in the air.

I've never really noticed before, but when he needlessly gets himself worked up like this; a vein in his forehead begins to ominously pulse.

I better gather some information on prevention of ischemic attacks before the old boy strokes out? He's not a young man anymore and what with the stress of his job and having a rather low frustration tolerance to begin with...?

"Immature as adults know and endlessly lecture on the dangers inherent in 'running down stairs'." I lecture in a bored tone, but no less emphatic.

I really am getting this teaching thing down.

_Now that's a new one? Why is he goggling like that?_

I wait patiently for several minutes as, like I said, he's not a young man anymore. He needs more time to process things than he use to.

Finally, he waves me off defeated, grumbling: "Alright,... I give you that."

Unfortunately, he recovers enough to petition. "That said, how do you account for the entirety of the rest of said class requiring calming draughts to restore order?"

To which I shrug. "Obviously the shock and trauma of seeing their fellow students getting injured was more than their limited experience could cope with."

_That throbbing vein is getting worrisome._

It takes a bit, but he finally seems to have processed that and must have begrudgingly agreed as he waves me off in a rather noncommittal fashion and proceeds to investigate the whole innocuous episode from a different angle.

"Alright,... Alright... let's let the effect go and concentrate on the cause shall we?" he asks with some semblance of self pity in his voice.

He starts reaching absently for his lemon drop dish...

"Ah-Ah-Ah" I warn, hurriedly pulling the dish out of his reach.

He sighs dejectedly in resignation and falls back into his chair.

"Where were we... er, oh yes, the cause? What was the reason that the students fled you class in what was it... "immature terror"?"

Rolling my eyes I explain that Ms. Granger asked for a demonstration of an animagus transformation.

Moments pass as his headship mulls this over before asking..."And?"

"And so I gave her one." I shrug indifferently as if belaboring the obvious. For someone so brilliant, he seems incredibly slow on the uptake sometimes.

Wide eyed and a bit excited he presses to ascertain. "You've managed an animagus transformation?"

"Well obviously." I respond sarcastically, really, it's like speaking to a first year. "How else could I have demonstrated an animagus transformation to my class?"

The old boy fidgets excitedly in his seat, goggling at me expectantly.

Several minutes pass before he prods. "Well?"

"Well what?"

I mean really how am I suppose know what he wants if he doesn't come right out and say it? I mean, I could read his mind, but the last time I took a peak in there I was physically nauseous for days after.

My God! The thoughts that decrepit old bugger harbors would make a catholic priest blush. To top it all off there's that one image Trelwaney in high heels and nothing else. She...she's performing...a stripper's pole,... omigod... urggg!

_Stop it, Harry. For the love of all that's holy- stop it! _

Gratefully, Dumble's pulls me out of the night mare recollection I've slipped into.

"Well, let's see your animagus form then?" he prompts.

"Oh,.. is that all?" _I mean, why did he just say so and save us all the needless drama?_

I transform as requested.

"Gaaaaaa!"

Dumbledore screams and bolts from the office like all hell's on his tail.

Hastily I transform back to warn: "Professor! Don't run on the stair!"

"Ahhhhhhhh..."

_Too late._

* * *

><p>First; I'm supposedly, 'just another student'. Then I'm made headmaster,( per my own sense of unyielding responsibility), due to a unique sequence of 'unfortunate events'.<p>

_That sounds kinda familiar?_

Likewise; I'm made a Transfiguration Professor. For which, (I might add), I've yet to be paid my first week's salary.

Now, the board wants me to handle both the headmaster's duties and transfiguration lessons?

Why should I even consider that when I've yet to be paid for the first job, which, by the by, was supposedly a demotion for how I handled the Headmaster job in the first place?

These people need to make up their minds.

Scapegoat? Pariah? Student? Professor? Headmaster? I wish the public would make up its collective mind already. I don't have the time to be yo-yoing around.

**I'm trying to fight a war here, people.**

Pranks like that 'Christmas card' take a lot of time to develop. I can't just ignore Tom and his minions while I play headmaster and professor. What sort of message does that send out to the opposition?

Especially if word gets out that I'm doing it for free? I'll lose all credence.

Still,... I am a Gryffindor and I do have the students to think of...?

Being the conscientious man that I am; I make the board a good fair, albeit, _modest _offer.

"Four Hundred galleons a month,...

"Four hundred?!" Gideon Prewitt gasps in outrage. "Dumbledore only gets three hundred."

"Yes, but he doesn't teach classes either, now does he?" I remind the entire board sarcastically before continuing my train of thought prior to being rudely interrupted.

"Plus food and board. I expect a two bedroom suite with all the usual amenities..."

"Two bedrooms? Whatever would you need two bedrooms for?" Madam Bones interrupts.

"One's for sleep. The other is for entertaining, obviously."

Seriously, am I the only adult here?

Madam Bones has the good grace to look embarrassed. She lowers her head to the table and bangs it a repeatedly with her forehead.

I assume she's punishing herself for her own naivety.

I finish listing my expectations which I feel are wholly commensurate with my new position. "A secretary... personal elf and every Sunday and every other Saturday off,.. without exception."

Prewitt looks too pale for a man of his years, even though he's about a thousand- give or take. Madam Bones has her forehead so tightly furrowed that she accidently cracks her monocle, yelping in surprise when it happens.

She's lucky she didn't put her eye out.

Another left the room hurriedly mumbling worriedly something about the bathroom being 'all the way down the hall!'

Then there's Madam Marchblank whose eyeing me like 'day old bakery' that she thinks she can get for an even more discounted price than the one that's marked.

"Four hundred? I think three more than sufficient given your lack of credible qualifications. The boost such prestigious undertaking would give your resume is near payment enough? A prefect's **one** bedroom suite should be sufficient and the castle already provides house elves for domestic services. As to a personal secretary...?"

"All my demands are, in and of themselves, reasonable and commensurate with my expected duties. They are all nonnegotiable, including the secretary." I drawl adamantly. I have them, over a barrel and they know it. Nobody, except for maybe Riddle, (which I point out), even wants to consider the vacancy.

Madam Marchblank smirks indulgently, countering.. "Three-fifty and not a knut more. That said; Who did you have in mind for a secretary?" She waggles her finger expectantly at me. "I caution you that our budget is stretched to the limit already, Headmaster." She drawls pointedly.

I can't help it,... I like the sound of the title, even though it's a temporary gig. She knows it and is exploiting the issue knowing that Dumbledore should recover from his injuries in a few months if he gets the proper care and rest,... which I've vowed to see to- personally.

I wave off her concerns. "Susan Bones has graciously offered her services for no more than the value of the experience alone working _under me_." I express with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Madam Bones excuses herself mumbling about the need for the ladies room. She and the other one must have eaten at the same place this morning.

I'll need to find out where so I can pass on the recommendation to dear old Tom.

There's nothing like explosive diarrhea to occupy one's spare time. I figure he can't be out pillaging and raping if he's glued to a toilet seat 24/7.

"Whilst I can accept a day off per week even two from time to time, does it necessarily have to be Sunday and every other Saturday?" Marchblanks questions, reorienting me to the present.

I can't just tell the woman what I've in mind for Tom and company? She could be a Death Eater or worse yet... a _bleeding heart_ liberal.

Thinking fast on my feet, I tell her the next best thing. At least it's the truth, after a fashion.

"As I'm tied up with my educational and administrative duties during the week, I'll need the spare Saturday now and again for personal reasons. You see; I'm a deeply religious person and I intend to, um... **sin**.. a lot.. on those days, so... I'll need all of Sunday to seek forgiveness and guidance, as it were."

_Hmm,... Prewitt appears to be suffering the same malady as Dumbles. First the tic, now he's fainted from the strain, poor fello_w.

Marchblank must have eaten at the same dive as her counterparts as she's just fled for the bathroom.

_She looked a bit green, the poor woman._

I find myself alone again with no one but myself to rely on.

Whatever will I do?


	8. Chapter 8: The grass is always greener

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: I know it's been awhile. Thought I just better warn those of you with a higher moral compass that Bad Harry, is well- "BAD" this chapter.

**Chapter Eight: The grass is always greener...**

"Well,...I'm waiting...?"

"Erm,..I've been bad."

_It's just not the same. I know, maybe it's the beard and glasses._

I conjure a long white beard and half moon spectacles like Dumbles' trademark look of the 'venerable headmaster'.

_Yikes,.. Now I look like one of those muggle garden gnomes. All I need now is a little plastic shovel and a blue bird sitting on my shoulder._

I turn away from the mirror in disgust with myself. A few short months on the job and I can't even punish myself when I've clearly been bad.

Who knew Dumbles job was so complicated?

Why it's nothing but endless paperwork and teachers sending child after child for disciplinary action. If it's not the elves shoving requisitions under my nose day and night then it's the bumbling moron of a minister whining on the floo.

I swear the man can't hit a pisser when he's parked on one!

The endless parade of disciplinary issues is enough to make me start my own lemon drop addiction. I can empathize with Dumble's needing a confectionary aphrodisiac as this job is definitely the cause of diminished libido in males or at least it would be if it wasn't for er,.. overly amorous students such as one Miss Daphne Greengrass.

And I thought **I** was **bad**?

This girl takes being **bad** to a whole new level.

Now, normally I wouldn't be one to complain, especially as that would make me a hypocrite. I mean, I've been **bad** and certainly on more than one occasion.

Wait a minute.. Did I just use the word-certainly?

OMIGOD... I'm becoming my worst nightmare and it isn't Voldie. It's "guess what's hidden under my robes boy and girls?"-Dumbledore!

The humanity...THE HUMANITY!

I digress... where was I,.. oh yes,..Miss Greengrass. 'Ice queen of Slytherin'-indeed?

Did I just use the word-indeed?

Urk...Oh no it's happening again,.er,... never mind... We're on Miss Greengrass, right?

_Miss_,.. as if? That little strumpet gets sent to my office every hour on the hour, she's no _Miss_. If it wasn't for the picture Dumbles keeps of a naked and tawdry 'Professor Trelwaney' in his top drawer; I would have succumbed to Miss Greengrass' overtures long ago.

I'm only human after all,.. well- half human anyway.

The other half goes 'WOO-HOO' every time that Slytherin trollop comes sashaying into my office.

It wasn't more than a half hour ago when she comes in with a grin that shows my previous dental consultation did wonders for her overbite.

Anyway,.. I did my usual Dumbles imitation and look disappointed as I ask in a long suffering tone...

"What seems to be the issue this time, Miss Greengrass?" I ask in a withering tone that Dumbles could definitely appreciate.

"Well sir",.. she bats her icy blue eyes and bends herself tantalizing over my desk given me an ample view of her well toned cleavage as she states breathlessly... "I've been **bad**".

And **NO**,.. she didn't get it from me.

How can I tell? Because she doesn't appear the least bit regretful like I do. I should know as again,.. I practiced in the mirror.

I'm somewhat of a novice thespian and I take me roles seriously.

If a person's gonna claim regret they should show a modicum of shame for Circe's sake.

But this chick doesn't show the least bit of shame, shameless more like.

Where was I? Oh, yes,... Miss Shameless.

Clearing my throat reprovingly- _I've got that down in a spot on imitation of the master._

"And just how have you been "bad", Miss Shame,.. er,.. Miss Greengrass?"

Well sir,.. I was in Professor Flitwick's class working at the blackboard and I dropped my piece of chalk. When I went to pick it up, Professor Flitwick sent me here claiming I was a disruptive element and ought to be ashamed." She simpers innocently.

_Alright, I'll bite_.

"Just how is picking up a piece of chalk considered being a disruptive element, Miss Greengrass?"

Whew,.. at least I got her name right that time.

"Well sir,.. it's like this..." Daphne bends over in front of my desk to demonstrate the incident.

_Hmm,..skirt rides up- that's understandable, no knickers, shapely legs and,... wait a minute.. NO KNICKERS!_

_WOO-HOOO! Bad Harry wants to come out and play. _

_OMIGOD... I think my desk is rising up sans a levitation charm?_

_Look mom- no hands!_

_Quick somebody, get me a ton of lemon drops- it's gonna be a loooong day!_

"Professor...Professor?"

"Huh?" I mumble coming out of the daydream of a lifetime.

"I-It was a perfectly innocent mistake, Professor. Really it was. You're not gonna give me a detention are you?" She pouts prettily, resuming her position of languidly draping herself across my desk with cleavage _busting_ out all over.

'Busting out' get it? HE-HE-HE.

_Where was I? Oh, yeah_,.._Punish you? Hell yes, I'm gonna punish you._ _I think bending you over my knee, as is, and getting a sound spanking is in order._

"Hmm-umph..." I clear my throat trying to bide my time while I decide how best to handle the situation.

_Hmm, **handling** it sounds about right. _No need for a Play Wizard and a bar of soap. All I need is the image, plastered on my subconscious, to come out via Dumble's pensieve.

Speaking of pensieves: The damn thing glows beckoningly from across the room. Now, I admit being as curious as the next guy, but who knew the amount of lecherous thoughts the venerable headmaster had tucked away. A few bags of his patented lemon drops, a simple copying spell and the man could have cornered the kiddie porn business.

I've come to the conclusion that Dumbledore gave a whole new meaning to _self indulgent_.

No wonder he kept Snape around all these years. Snape sent them to detention left and right and Albus being the degenerate he was, he made sure they were suitably regretful by the time they left his office.

Where was I? Oh, yes,... Miss Shameless. This has got to stop. I mean really? I've got a reputation to uphold. That, and a pensive waiting for my personal indulgence.

I'm gonna let the punishment fit the crime. If she wants to play this game then she's going to learn from the master or _mistress_ as the case may be.

"Detention Miss Greeengrass!"

Her pretentious sighs died in her throat as I outlined her fate.

"You will serve two weeks of detention from six to nine p.m. under Professor Trelwaney's exacting tutelage, learning to be a **proper** lady- dismissed."

Daphne Greengrass burst into tears and fled the office though I barely noted her response as I was still marveling on how I just got all that out with a straight face.

She'd learn to be a proper lady all right? If Dumbles personal effects were to be believed, she'd learn to be anything, but a lady.

As for Trelwaney; she could use a bit of time with the younger and _overtly precocious _female. It was a chance to see how the other half lived.

I can't help but think that the two would be good for each other.

A win- win situation. Now all that remains is to see if I can just get a proper video camera to work in a magical environment?

That done and my docket suspiciously clear for a change, I'm off to St. Mungo's to check up on poor Professor Mc-G.

* * *

><p>The "immersion" therapy was a bust, at least on the surface of things.<p>

I admit I had my doubts to begin with, but I trusted in the wisdom of her healers and gave it my best shot.

They figured that if I give into what Professor Mc-G seemingly thinks she desires, but actually, (on a subconscious level fears and is a source of continued obsession and anxiety), things will come to a head and her anxiety will come to the fore as she realizes this is not what she really wants and is in fact abhorrent to her.

They asked me to take an unencumbered approach. To let myself go and act interested, enticing even. All reasonable precautions were in place. A coded safety word I could use if at anytime I feel unsafe all I have to do is utter my code word and staff would intervene and the session would immediately be aborted.

Not that I have any reason to doubt, but I also insisted upon the liberal use of their strongest contraceptive charms and potions. A lot of suspicious eyebrows were raised at that, but hey, I know that even under the best of circumstances accidents still happen.

Hmm, I wonder if that shouldn't be my personal motto; "Accident's will happen"? I gotta admit it's nicer than the proverbial: "shite happens!" See I can be politically correct. Dumbles would be so proud.

Anyway, all precautions in place; I was asked to just act natural and let things happen naturally.

So naturally, I went into the poor woman's room- _all natural_. Not a stitch of cloths to my name save for a pilot's white scarf that hung down enticingly over my er,.. _modesty_.

There she was, her hospital gown rendered translucent by the light of the mid-day sun shining through her window.

She'd lost a bit of weight and despite her advancing age she had a rather well toned figure for a...?

_Stop that! Bad Harry-Bad! You're here to render assistance, not take advantage of the poor women's vulnerability. _

I finish berating myself, only too late...my scarf has shifted to the side and the sun outside is not the only thing rising around here.

"Ah,... Mr. Potter.." she gasps. "How nice to see you." At this her eyes shift to my lower region and seem fixed there as she evaluates me like a frightened first year.

I must admit that I've matured. When I was a first year I would have quailed beneath such a disarming gaze, but now... I seem **up** to it.

I can see the approval mirrored in her eyes that and something.. well, **feral**.

Now I don't know how this whole "immersion" thing is supposed to work, but initially I'm thinking it's working as gone are the nervous tics she suffered of pervious.

"Bring your wand over here and let's begin your lesson shall we?" she instructs expectantly.

_Wand? I wasn't allowed a wand? _

"What're you...?" I begin to question only she isn't listening as her gown seems to have slipped from her shoulders and... _Whoa...!_

I should be concerned, but I've got to admit; she's got a great pair of teaching aids. They must be under some form of localized levitation charm as they seem to defy all reasonable expectations of gravity.

In my distraction, she seizes the opportunity, literally so.

"Urg, ah.. what're you doing?

"Making a little magic." She answers throatily. "That is what wands are for aren't they" She drawls knowingly. Her voice isn't the only knowing thing around her as I can well believe that Wonder Bread would be interested in her as a product tester.

Get it, Wonder Bread? You know.. You can _squeeze the freshness_?

Seriously.. you're not getting it?

"Hmm, it's been a while since I've had such a lovely wand in my hand too." she murmurs appreciativley while my eyes roll around in my head like a pinball machine.

"Yes, nice inches, English oak, isn't it?." She comments in a voice so husky it could pull a dogsled.

"What're you... No, it's not right,.. er, um.. but that feels sooo good."

_Bad Harry-BAD!_

"No,... no,.. we can't." I struggle to pull myself away, but she's got a death grip on me.

_What am I saying? What a way to go!_

"Oh. ..Mr. Potter... I've never seen you concentrate so **hard** in class before. Is it the subject or the teacher, dear boy?"

_Omigod it's the school lesson of a life time!_

_No... it's not right!...What was that code word and where's her other hand gotten to?_

_URKKKK_

"P-Professor...Professor... no..." I beg half heartedly, but too late. "R-Remember yourself,.. we can't... Oh,...oh-no...MOMMY!"

"Ah... that's a good boy, Potter, but I'm afraid you're going to need a great deal of remedial study until I'm _fully_ satisfied."

Seemingly dismissed... I stumble from the room bleary eyed and trembling.

She's the one hospitalized but strangely I'm the one who's now in counseling.

My therapist claims I've got some sort of unresolved mother issues coupled with some deep set "nightingale" ideology in that I put the care of others before my own personal wellbeing or some such rot.

All I know is that Professor Mc-G makes Daphne Greengrass look like the school girl that she is.

If the professor thinks I'm in need of intensive 'hands on' tutelage, than who am I to argue with her professional opinion in the matter.

Besides... it's for a good cause- the professor's recovery is prominently in my mind as I submit myself to session upon session- all for the "Greater Good'.

Things are going so well in fact that I'm thinking of extending the service to his snakiness.

Seriously... I can't see Tom getting all "kill anyone in my way" with the kind of advance study that Professor Mc-G would put him through. He'd be lucky if he could stand under his own power after a week of intensive "immersion" therapy.

Hell, if it wasn't for my enhanced vampiric strength and healing: I'd be in a bed right next to the poor lady.

If that were the case then I think it unlikely I'd recover.

_Poor Lady_- as if,... on either count.

* * *

><p>I'm just coming from another lengthy session in which we practiced role reversal. I swear,.. is this where Greengrass got the naughty schoolgirl routine from? Greengrass was good, but she's got nothing on the master.<p>

My hand is so sore from spanking that iron hide of hers that I think I sprained my wrist.

My childish concerns pale as I find myself passing another emotional "goodbye" scene, between Neville and the shells of humanity that once were his parents, by the entrance to the long term spell damage ward.

I watch from a distance, though my enhanced sight can readily delineate every nuance of emotion.

For the most part, Alice and Frank Longbottom seem disconnected though my sharp eyes pick up the barest flicker of recognition in their eyes, though it's lost before it can flourish into an actual connected thought and an appropriate response.

_Hmm,.. I wonder...?_

Neville's a good bloke who doesn't deserve the hell he's living in. Who does deserve said hell is the witch who brought this misery about in the first place... Bellatrix Lestrange.

_Let's see what we can see?_

My mind made up, I decide to pay Frank and Alice a little visit.

"Sir,.. you just came visit here without the proper authorization? You'll have to get clearance from the healer on du...ty? her voice trails off in recognition.

I get a lot of that.

The nurse at the desk is just doing her job and admirably so, that said...

"Look deep into my eyes!" I loom up over the poor woman and do the whole vampire mind whammy thing.

Green eyes of flame with piercing black centers bore into startled brown.

_Say,.. she's got rather attractive eyes.. No... don't go there. Haven't I been through enough therapy for one day already?_

I'm not really sure how this whole; _jedi mind scramble_ thing works, but it does. From what I can tell it's the legillmens version of an imperious curse with a wicked compulsion to push things along and just a dash of obliviation thrown in to keep things nice and discrete.

"My will is your will..."

"My will is your will.." she echoes me verbatim.

"My desires, your desires..."

"My desires, your desires..."

_Hmm,.. I wonder?_

"Your measurements are..?"

"Thirty six, twenty four, thirty four..." she responds blankly.

_Really?_

"Your floo number is...?" I press my luck.

"Sixty four west crescent..."

"You dig green eyed, half vamps with mother issues that...

"Need to be spanked..." she has a smirk on her face when she answers despite her vacant eyes.

Now I know why Dumbledore's eyes twinkled like that when he puts the old mind reading compulsion thing on his charges.

This nurse is my idea of a care giver; a truly compassionate individual willing to go that extra mile to see to it that he patient's needs are met to the fullest.

_What am I thinking?...Bad Harry- Bad!_

_Where was I... my will, my desire...no not that!_

"Um... You are in my power... you did not see me... I was not here... say,.. what's your name anyway?"

_I can't help myself, there's just something about this girl that's wholly alluring._

"D-Daphne.." she murmurs.

_It figures._

"When do you get off?"

"Probably five minutes or so before you..."

_Yikes! My power's incredible. Mwah-Ha-Ha-Ha!_

_Whoa, did I just do the whole evil laugh thing subconsciously?_

"It was dead sexy.. master." Daphne echoes subserviently.

_It's gotta be the name?_

_Wait,.. where was I.. the Longbottoms,.. yeah, that's it...ok,.. focus.._

"You will go to sleep and when you awake all will be as it should..."

"Chained to your bed writhing in desire as you..."

_Uh-Oh,... I think I broke this chick? But if this is broke-why fix it?_

"Yes,.. you shall be my pleasure slave. My desires yours to sate- My needs yours to assuage..."

_Say,.. I've got this whole Dracula thing down only from an Andy Warhol kind of slant._

"My wants yours to ...Urg.. no-Bad Harry Bad!" I chastise myself though I deserve worse.

"Shall I spank you master?"The nurse asks all too hopefully from her trance.

"Why yes, that's a fine idea... urg.. no.. um.. just go to sleep would ya?"

"Yes master." She answers dejectedly, slumping over her paperwork.

_Whew,.. I've got to get a handle on this before I end up the Hugh Hephner of vampires._

Redoubling my efforts I make for Alice and Frank's room and find Frank slumbering in bed and Alice staring blankly out the room's sole window.

I'll tackle Alice first and see what there's to see.

_Now concentrate Harry and remember.. this is a friend's mother._

It's time to do the _jedi_ thing.

"Look into my eyes, Alice Longbottom. My will is your will. My thoughts are your thoughts as your thoughts are mine to know. Share them with me.. Alice Longbottom.

A few minutes later...

_Yikes and I thought I was bad? A friend's mother? Who knew that Neville's mom was really Stifler's mom in disguise? I've gotta save this woman,.. er... solely because it's the right thing to do, of course._

_Good one, Harry. You just keep telling yourself that and maybe you'll believe it._

I've managed to find out that Alice is still in there (and she's dying to get out), the torture didn't destroy her mind. What it did do was cause it to partition itself to protect the important parts. What we've got here is some sort of reverse occulomency.

Instead of building wall to prevent outside influence from affecting her mind, Alice has constructed walls to protect the rational part of her mind away from the pain and madness left in the wake of a constant barrage of imperius and crutiatus curses.

What's more...I found out that Alice Longbottom is my God mum. An evil Godmother, (if the unsavory thoughts rattling around in there are to be believed), but my Godmother just the same.

_Say, I wonder if there's a law against a Godson and a Godmother hooking up... Urgg! _

_Oh, I'm going to hell for that one!_

I think with a bit of work I can pull Alice out of there may be even permanently if she can face her fears and see them eliminated, freeing her subconscious.

Eliminating her fears is right up my alley.

I decide to hold off on Alice until I get a peak under Frank's lid to see what's going on in there before I get too far ahead of myself.

A few minutes later...

_And I thought Alice was warped. It's not too much of a reach to see how these two hooked up._

_I think I just found evil godmom's bad little boy._

_Lestrange must've had to use some serious mojo to torture and break this guy because he definitely likes to be punished._

_These were some of my parent's best friends? _

_I think I'm beginning to get the picture and let's just say that I inherited more than my mom's green eyes and dad's funky hair; if the behavior I displayed with the nurse outside is anything to go by?_

_I thought I knew how to be "bad" but I've got nothing on this lot. Mom, dad and the rest of these degenerates know more about discretion then Dumbles has most likely forgotten._

_Hmmm,... I wonder if I can turn their own natural inclinations to an advantage?_

That thought in mind, I set about waking up the Longbottoms, taking great care to focus their thus far "_discretionary behaviors" _on the person of the supreme mistress of torment: Bellatrix Lestrange.

"When I snap my fingers you shall awaken. Remember...Bellatrix Lestrange did this to you and she must be...**punished**. You must find her,... break her... make her your slave..., er, that,.. and be a loving family to your son and mother."

I'm nothing if not compassionate.

"One-Two-Three...Snap!"

"Wha...?

"Where...?"

"Alice?

"Frank?"

"Oh, baby!"

"I need you-NOW!"

Hospital gowns are torn off in abandon, heedless of their whereabouts or who else may be in the room.

_Yikes!..Talk about a happy reunion? I knew I should have put a drop cloth down. _

"Oh..Frank!"

"Oh...Baby!"

_Oh no! _

_My eyes- they burn!_

"Gaa.." with a last gasp of shock Io make a beeline for the door before I see something that's sure to scar my memory, well, something worse than what I've seen thus far which doesn't leave much, but I'm willing to bet that these two can find it.

I'm trotting past the nurse's station when an inspiration hits.

I do my _jedi whammy thing_ to "Daphne" instructing.. "At the count of three you will awake and go to check on the couple in room four. They are in desperate need of your compassionate care.

"One...two.. three!" I call out over my shoulder as I race for the door.

I've missed so many birthdays and holiday that I feel it's the least I can do. Besides, I'm fairly suspicious that Daphne must be some distant member of the family judging by the things that are rolling around in hers and Alice's heads.

Two minds like that in the same proximity can't be just a coincidence. I really must research the roots of the name "Daphne" because I find that highly dubious as well.

I mean there's coincidence and then there's coincidence.

* * *

><p>Ah, it's good to be back in the safe surroundings of the castle again- yeah right.<p>

It may never be what one could reasonably call safe, but it is home.

It's only mid afternoon, but Merlin, am I drained.

No,... it's not what you're thinking. Cripes, get your mind out of the gutter people.

Anyway,.. I decide to play Madam Pomfrey a visit and pick up a pepper up potion or two.

Entering the infirmary I call out good naturedly.. "Poppy-dear, a moment of your time?"

"So,... there you are-headmaster?" She drawls sarcastically puffing herself up indignantly. I can't help but notice that the way she says "headmaster" doesn't hold with it the same affectionate tone and reverence that she uses with Dumbledore.

"Is something amiss?" I ask innocently, and truly believe I am.

_Did I just use the word amiss? Sheesh, it isn't the DADA class that's cursed, it's the Headmaster's. I'm turning into the doddering old lecher more and more every day._

_Well,.. at least the lecher part is spot on._

Pomfrey puffs herself up over me with one hand planted on her hip and the other pointed toward the partition at the far end of the infirmary.

"Undoubtedly this is yet another example of your handiwork." She scathes accusatorily.

_Alright,..I'll bite._

"Just what, er,.. seems to be the problem?"

She clucks her tongue disapprovingly informing me that I should "See for yourself."

Shrugging an acknowledgement I venture over to see what's behind curtain number one.

_So what have you got for us today, Johnny?_

I channel a little of Monty Hall from the "let's make a deal" game show. It's the only show that dear Aunt Petunia would allow me to watch... yet another of the Dursley's petty torment.

_Well, Monty it's either a brand new car or..._ I pull back the curtain to find... _Oh good lord!_

_Professor Trelwaney's huddled over in a fetal position wearing a too tightly fitting cheer leader outfit and sucking her thumb whilst clutching a pom-poms to her breast as if her life depended on it.._

I manage to arch a surprised eyebrow , but otherwise find myself speechless.

Trelwaney, however much to my chagrin, is not. "Oh,.. there you are headmaster... I've been waiting all day for you."

With that she jumps onto her bed and breaks into a cheer.

"Harry-Harry he's our man if he can't do it, no one can!"

Shocked though I am,.. I'll bite.

"Er,.. do what exactly?"

Trelwaney promptly turns over displaying her wrinkled and unfortunately: knicker-less bottom as she turns her head back over her shoulder and simpers with a pouty face. "Punish me ,..I've been bad."

_I had to ask. _

_This is what happens when you mistakenly send the mountain to Mohammed._

_The second thing I'm going to do is punish Miss Greengrass and I've an idea just what might do the trick._

_First things first._

"Alright Sybil,.. I'll punish you." Rolling up my sleeves I step into the partition and give this batty old fraud the sort of punishment that she'll never forget.

Ten minutes later I'm half dragging, half carrying a screeching in protest- Sybil Trelwaney, through the Forbidden Forest.

She seems to think I'm gonna feed her to one of Aragog's brood or some such rot, but what I've got in mind for her should be more fitting.

I heave her into a clearing just inside of the centaur's territory knowing that a reception committee should be along shortly, especially after all the caterwauling she did on the way here.

A quick wandless charm hasSybil sporting a proper English riding outfit complete with whip and riding crop.

She barely gets out a gasp of alarm when the centaurs, complete with the ever irritable "Bane" heading the welcoming committee, come galloping into the clearing to protest violating their territory.

Bane comes up short pawing the ground in front of Trelwaney, who shrieks and cringes back in terror.

"What is the meaning of this outrage head master? Why do you bring this fraud amongst us? She, more than most, is not welcome here." he growls eyeing the female with a look of utmost contempt.

Can't say as I blame him really as Umbridge was the last contact he probably had with a school official. You can say what you want about Delores, but if there's one thing she does quite admirably it's that she leaves a lasting impression.

As much of a sore spot that Umbridge is, she's as nothing compared to how the centaurs feel about someone who misrepresents the art of Divination.

"This woman demands I remove Firenze from the school, denouncing him as a charlatan."  
>I'm pleased to see that they centaurs are suitably outraged at the pronouncement.<p>

I go for the throat.

"She claims stargazing is all "Hooey" practiced by mules that need to learn proper discipline either beneath humans or... behind a plow."

That's done it. The centaurs are stamping their hooves and neighing in outrage.

"She brought me here to bear witness as she teaches you lot proper equestrian deportment. I like not that she brings a whip and crop, but she claims they are useful teaching aides for stubborn mules."

Bane's eyes nearly bug out of his head as he hastily fits and arrow to his bow and draws back preparing to skewer Trelwaney where she lies; groveling wide eyed and mumbling piteously.

Almost feel sorry for her, almost.

Predicting my death on a daily basis has me, admittedly, somewhat jaded where Sybil's concerned.

"Hold, Bane?" I beseech. "She is not worthy of a quick and easy death. Rather, teach her the error of her ways by teaching her to be a **proper mare**." I finish grinning evilly.

I'm pleased to see that having cottoned on to my suggestion, Bane's smirk mirrors my own.

"You show great wisdom for one so young, headmaster." I'm pleased to note that for the first time his tone actually holds some regard for me.

"We shall teach her well to make sure the lesson takes hold."

With that, his companions grab up a squealing and wild eyed Trelwaney, carrying her off to their village.

I'm beginning to like that Bane. I'm gonna send him a bushel of apples to show my gratitude.

That done... It's time to see to Miss Greengrass.

Now, granted that I've no one but myself to blame for Ms. Greengrass' errant behavior, but enough is enough. I can't have her corrupting the staff- that's my job.

She's been neglecting her studies and disrupting classes all of which has been adding hours of distraction to my day, keeping me from more important business liking dealing with Tom in an up close and personal way.

Say,.. that gives me an idea..._why not kill two birds with one stone?_

_Voldie and company like to punish and Miss Greengrass obviously likes to __**be**__ punished... hmm?_

I'll admit that what I'm considering seems cruel, but then again, doesn't Tom deserve it?

An hour later...

"Oh, headmaster,.. this is going to be so much fun." Daphne drawls suggestively.

"Now,.. no matter what, stay in character. You're little red riding hood and you're looking for the 'big bad wolf'. Who, for my part in this little role playing venture as the 'big bad wolf', I'll be dressed up like Voldemort. After that... let's just see where the muse takes us shall we?

"Alright, headmaster, but you've got the good part." she pouts.

"Maybe,.. but don't give into me. Remember what I did to poor grandma? Make me work for it as only you can, Daphne."

_Yep,.. I'm going to hell alright. Probably have to smoke a turd as punishment for this one._

With that, Daphne smiles lasciviously and skips off, her bright red cloak billows behind her as she swings her basket to and fro.

_Lord only knows what the little dear has in that basket._

I wait til she's well on the path to Hogsmeade before I make my call.

Rub-Rub-Rub...I worry my fingers at my scar .

_Tom.. you bastard! _I scath into the ether of my own mind.

_What have you done with her? If you've harmed one hair on poor Miss Greengrass' head I'll...?_

_Potter.._Tom's thoughts enter into my subconscious. _What're you mewling about you pathetic child? _The dark lord responds sounding truly puzzled, but I can tell it's a ruse as he's intrigued by anything that causes me even the slightest duress. Some people are so easy.

_Don't play dumb with me Tom. I know you've got her. Daphne Greengrass didn't return from Hogsmeade with her peers._

_What're you doing to her you sick bastard? It's not right you taking advantage of a sweet and innocent young girl like Daphne._

I can't believe I got that out without laughing. Now to add sauce for the goose...

_I suppose you're playing the 'Big Bad Wolf' was all it took to lure her away? So the poor girl has a thing for Little Red Riding Hood? She's only role playing, after all. _

_I demand that you return my __**girlfriend**__ to me at once or there will be consequences!_

There's the slightest of pauses before Voldemort cackles merrily through the psychic ether.

_Big Bad Wolf you say? Oh, Ha-Ha-Ha-.. what fun. Yes, Potter... I shall enjoy your ..__**girlfriend.**__.. _

_I shall enjoy her very much!_

_You contemptible swine...I'll.._

My threat goes unheeded as I can feel Tom close the link between us.

Now,.. all I need to do is press the point that I'm sincere.

I follow after the lovely, if troubled, Miss Greengrass. I didn't have far to go before Tom shows up. He's obviously taken the bait as he's leering horrifically mask and playing the role of the heavy like he was meant for it.

"A-Are you the big bad wolf?"

Daphne, bless her, is swooning in fear which I know from experience is going to seal the deal where Tom's concerned.

"Why yes, my dear,.. I am most definitely-**bad**." Tom gloats suggestively.

It's a match made in heaven. Mr. Sadist meets Miss Masochist, or in this case... _Little Red and the Bid Bad Wolf._

Time to do my bit...

"Get away from her you black hearted bastard... I howl in outrage as I launch a variety of bone breakers, blasting hexes and the like... all screaming by harmlessly off target, but it's enough to give old Tom the idea that I'm desperate to save my, er... "girlfriend".

"She's mine..Ha-Ha-Ha!" Tom howls triumphantly before disapparating with poor Daphne in his clutches.

I wonder how long it will take before he comes to realize that he's the victim in all of this.

With a smile on my face I set off for the castle with a jaunty skip in my step for a prank well played.

Neither will see it that way as I've given both what they sorely believe they want, but I know Tom and although he's gonna enjoy things at first,... eventually she'll break him.

I've got complete faith in that girl.


	9. Chapter 9: Gone again

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Sorry, I know its been awhile-MK

**Chapter Nine: The year in review.**

What a crock? I can't believe I'm sitting here when I could be doing so many other worthwhile pursuits.

If you ask me the year was a complete success.

I removed Malfoy and the greasy git.

I eased Dumbledore into a well deserved and long overdue _forced retirement._

I managed to assist in returning a valuable teaching asset, (Professor Mc-G), to a state of good health and wellbeing.

Granted, I'm somewhat responsible for having driven said asset to her nervous breakdown in the first place, but one could argue that you don't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.

Besides, she claims she's hasn't felt this _good_ in years, something I wish to forgo commenting over.

I not only promoted the school's first "Winter Sporting Competition", but was also the first gold medalist of said competition. That feat was instrumental in leading to the school having obtained its own Zamboni. It may not be useful for much of anything save making a first class ice skating rink in the Great Hall, but it is a helluva lot of fun to drive and the elves found it makes wonderful snow cones if you fill its water tanks with Kool-Aid.

My fifth year defense class, again, scored higher than any other in history on their OWL scores. However, I am disappointed that my sixth years failed their end of term test's portion on 'animagus transformation'. Odd that, what with the time and effort I put into showing them the process first hand?

You'd think they'd never seen a vampire bat animagus before? Well, a six foot tall vampire bat with eight inch fangs, blood red eyes and a radar sense that goes off every time the seventh year Hufflepuff girls are in the showers.

Talk about a _well rounded_ education. And everyone says the Hufflepuffs always come up _flat_-Ha!

Anyway, at least the Newt's class did well on the whole after a little emersion therepy.

I know the reason I'm facing a review board can't be due to any complaints from Sybil Trellwaney's quarter.

I know this because she is currently expecting a foal in the fall and is happily engaged to Bane, of all people.

Talk about your _night-mare_! There's a stallion with _blinders _on.

I crack myself up. No wonder Dumbles held onto the job so long; it's a hoot!

Speaking of... my understanding is that Sybil no longer needs her "coke bottle" glasses as, unlike Dumbledore, Bane is rather well endowed and readily discernible to the scrutiny of the naked eye.

It's also my understanding that Bane looks rather haggard and tired these days, but I'd rather concern myself with the machinations of the school entrusted to my care.

That and I just don't want to get that picture stuck in my head along with all the other ones I have already in there stacked up like cord wood.

I'm sitting here mulling over recent events whilst waiting for the inquisition to begin. It seems the school governors frown upon the kidnapping of students by known terrorists.

In other words.. I've been _bad_.

Just how _bad_ they have no idea.

Voldemort has some inkling, or at least _had _some inkling before he went round the twist, as it were.

Who knew the power "he knows not" was depravity? You would think that if there was one thing that Voldie and Death Beaters had down it was depravity.

What kind of terrorists are these people?

Apparently Voldemort 's education was not as in depth and well rounded as previously assumed.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Here's what happened, at least as much as I was able to put together.

* * *

><p><strong>Ten days previously...<strong>

It's been a few days since poor Daphne Greengrass was abducted by the fiendish terrorist known as Voldemort.

Now, while I admit it was in rather poor taste for me to laugh,(uproariously), over the poor girl's plight. I did so with the knowledge of just what I was unleashing upon his Voldiness.

Like I said, it's been two days and I was admittedly curious as to the, erm,.. the _state of affairs_

at Voldi-central. I wasn't so much concerned for Daphne's wellbeing as I was for Tom's at this point.

By that I mean I could care less if he falls off a cliff as long as yours truly is doing the pushing.

I; being understandably curious, decided to check in to see if Tom's ready to return Daphne to the safety of Hogwart's.

By that I mean: Is he ready to surrender?

So I pick up the phone, as it were.

Vigorously rubbing my scar I call out telepathically through our link. _Tom... are you there Tom? _

At first I get a lot of static and then..._singing_?

_**I want to be loved by you, by you and nobody else but you. **_

_**I want to be loved by you alo-o-oonee.**_

_**Boo-boop- be- do!**_

What in the hell was that? Was that Tom singing Marilyn Monroe tunes?

Can't be,.. I must have just picked up some errant satellite rubbish.

_Tom,.. it's me, Tom,... it's Harry. Please start impotently threatening me so that I know you're alright?_

Static again, until finally...

_**I'm a little tea pot short and stout.**_

_**Here is my handle, here is my spout.**_

_**When I get all heat up here me shout..**_

_**Then tip me over and pour me out.**_

What's going on here? I swear I've got the right link up but all I'm getting is nursery songs.

I don't want to do it, but my curiosity is getting the better of me so I decide to project my subconscious into Tom's mind and see what's what?

I open my eyes and see soft pastel stars dangling above me and the faint musical notes of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" playing nearby.

_That and what's that squelching noise?_

I look down to see...Gaaa!

I'm sucking my thumb and wearing diapers! Er,.. I mean his darkness is wearing diapers and sucking his thumb, not because I'd ever.. well,.. you know..Oh, never mind!

I'm reeling in disorientation when the object of my, er.. Tom's duress hovers into view.

"Did my wittle man make boom-boom again?"

_Boom-boom? What's...?_

"Then weez just going to have to give him a baff and cwean him all up!" Daphne simpers as she starts tugging at my, er.. Tom's diaper.

_OMIGOD! What have I done?_

"Now you be a good boy and not spray momma like the last time." Daphne waggles her finger down at me,.. er.. Tom.

_Spray momma? Hell yes I'm gonna hose you down. What?! No!...Bad Harry-Bad!_

"When we gets him all cwean then Momma's gonna put on his powder and nurse him before we tucks him in nighty-night." Daphne coos...

She's really got this whole mother thing down.

What a minute..Powder and nurse him? POWDER and NURSE HIM?!

_Woo-Hoo! I'm up for that-literally._

"Momma-goo-gooo.." I hear Tom,.. er.. **me** say hopefully.

_How do you say "make mine a double" in baby talk?_

"Ohh, is my wittle man happy to see his mommy?" Daphne simpers suggestively as she pulls his,.. my,.. **our** diaper free and cool air hits my nether region.

Ho-boy, this makes up for the time Tom possessed me at the Ministry. I'm gonna take my vengeance by denying him the lovely Miss Greengrass's ministrations as I hold sway over his conscious mind.

_Come on, mommy bring on the sponge and bath toys... I'm a dirty wittle man!_

* * *

><p>Two hours later I'm in my office still shuddering from the ordeal as I try to collect myself and what shreds of my dignity I still possess.<p>

One thing is for sure: That Tom Riddle is a glutton.

I can't believe she held all that milk? Amazing what some witches can accomplish with a _wet- nurse charm._

No wonder the Weasley twins grew to be such a pair of strapping boys.

I may have had my doubts before, but now I'm sure of it; I'm going to hell with the rest of the "bad wittle boys".

I'm five seconds away from reaching for the third in a row- _calming draught,_ when there's a knock on my office door.

Grateful for the distraction I call out.. "Enter".

The words have barely left my mouth when an exuberant, Neville Longbottom, bounces into my office and pumps my hand thanking me to the heavens for the role I played in retuning his parents to him.

_Redemption at last_. Maybe there's hope for me after all.

Neville's just returned from a weekend pass that culminated with returning his parents home to Longbottom Manor and an intimate, (Neville, his gran and parents), welcome home party.

The boy's happiness is infectious and I find myself helplessly grinning along with him as he recounts the weekend in vivid detail.

"Oh, Harry, er,.. I mean headmaster.."

I wave him off that the title is meaningless between two friends and god-brothers such as we- as he nods appreciatively and continues his story.

"They're everything I dreamed they'd be." he gushes.

I can vouch for that as they were a lot **more** than I dreamed they'd be.

"My mom is so sweet and gentle.. she really seems to get me. Dad says he's proud of the man I've become and gran spent the better part of the night telling them all about us and the adventures we've had since first year."

_Hmm.. I'd really like to hear more about __**their **__adventures before my first year.. stop that! _

_Bad Harry-Bad!_

"They were so impressed when I told them you were made interim headmaster. They're dying to meet you and thank you in person."

_I'll bet._

They introduced me to the nurse that's been taking care of them..I guess she's a distant relation or something...?"

_Uh-oh _

"Anyway, here name's Daphne and if I didn't know any better I'd swear my mom was trying to hook us up?"

_Redemption-hah,..I'm going to hell!_

"She and the folks seem really close which is kind of surprising as they've been out of touch for so long, but I guess Daphne must've made an impression."

_An impression in their hospital bed, most likely._

"Daphne seemed to think she was acquainted with you from somewhere...?"

_Uh-oh..._

"..but I assured her it was probably cause you visited mum and dad before,.. right?" he asks hopefully and I can tell by his demeanor that he's worried I'll have designs on his budding romance.

_Whew... talk about dodging the bullet_

"Er,.. right, Nev." I lie, but if anything it's a sin of omission, as I'm glad to omit myself from this equation.

_Why can't I find a nice girl to help me learn to be a nice boy?_

_Did I just think that?_

_OMIGOD-I did! _

_What's worse is that I meant it too!_

"You should ask her out, Nev." I suggest shaking off my errant thoughts. Neville could use a little adventure of the safer variety.

By that I mean- _carnal _variety in that it's safer because it probably won't end up killing him like my adventures do.

At least I think it won't kill him. There are worse things, I'm sure, and if he's curious as to what they are then he can ask his mum.

"Please say you'll come Sunday to meet the family,.. please?"

Seeing no way out as I'm pinned by his pleading eyes, I reluctantly agree to accompany him home Sunday afternoon for a late brunch to "meet and greet" with the family.

That said, Neville nearly dances from the office to owl his parents that I accepted their invite.

After a little reflection I find myself looking forward to lunch with the Longbottoms, absently wandering if Neville's mum is a good cook.

I'm also wondering if it matters to dad if she is or not.

I mean,.. there are cooks and then there are _cooks_.

Get it?... not getting it...? Hmm,... I mean she really **cooks**,.. you know.. serves it up?

Really,.. you're not cottoning on? Am I the only one with a sense of humor out there?

Maybe it's just that my sense of humor is really- _out there_?

Anyway,.. I mean that the woman is probably more adept at the _flowery _rather than the _culinary arts_.

Still not, huh? Oh for crying out loud.. she's a minx already.

Sheesh, and I use to think that I was thick?

Needing a bit of fresh air, I take a stroll down to one of my favorite spots to reflect and decompress. There's a lovely spot beneath an old oak in the castle's atrium, the center piece of which is the lovely fountain I've crafted for the enjoyment of not only the student body, but the many birds inhabiting the castle rafters and the surrounding countryside.

As promised I made a fountain of Dumbledore's stone gargoyle. He looks decidedly unhappy with his change in venue, but the birds love him.

At first he scowled and growled and scared the little feathered dears away, but after a few _immobilizing charms_ he,.. er,.. _settled_ into his role.

Strange that he's got that greenish tinge? It must be some form of discoloration caused by the algae build up in the water, that or...

While music to the ears and pleasant to watch, birds are not the cleanest of animals.

Now I know where the saying "Dirty Bird" comes from.

I'll have to see if the elves can start cleaning the fountain out more than once monthly as I wouldn't want any of the feathered dears to come down sick from bathing in and drinking fouled water.

Speaking of "foul", I hadn't really noticed before but I'd swear that the gargoyle was glaring murderously in my direction as I scatter bird seed around his base attracting more of the little feather dears .

After a few minutes of listening to the birds chirp their appreciation and splatter their leavings over the object of my contemplation, I decide it must be just a trick of the light.

Ah, I feel better now. One must take time to enjoy the simple pleasures.

If nothing I'm at least a man of my word. That or a vindictive bastard, but really.. aren't they one and the same considering the context of this scenario?

* * *

><p><strong>Present...<strong>

Finally, they call me in to meet and greet the school governors.

I saunter into the hearing chamber with a pleasant smile and twinkling eyes, dropping a merry..

"Pleasant morning to you all."

Omigod, that was perfect. I've got this headmaster gig down to a tee.

I can tell by the way that Madam Bones monocle pops out that she thinks so too.

Oddly she's casting startled glances between me and someone behind and to my right.

I chance an intrigued look over my right shoulder to see a well rested and healthier looking Dumbledore than I've seen in some time.

I pat myself on the back as obviously retirement agrees with him. That and they have really good potions at the asylum.

I heard that the withdrawal from Lemon drops was the worst of it.

That reminds me...

I rummage through my robes eyeing Madam Bones with a practiced eye.

You know.. I can see the resemblance to Susan; strawberry blonde, well rounded hips , generous bust line..

_Ah, here it is..._

"Lemon drop- madam?" I offer gallantly.

CRACK

Odd, she didn't drop her monocle this time but appears to have frowned so hard that she cracked it.

_Must be a diabetic?_ I'll need to be mindful of low blood sugar if we hook up.

Old professor Tofty snickers at Bone's response and I can hear Dumbles chuckle behind me before he inquires.

"I'd like one please, Harry?"

I quickly hide the bag back within the safety of my robes, scoffing.. "Certainly not. We're not going through all that again."

Dumbles sighs dejectedly at that.

"Now then, head-master?" Bones starts off with, I note, a certain amount of sneering disdain for my title.

"Summarize for me, if you would, you're activities of this year since acquiring the post of _interim_ Headmaster?"

I can tell by the way she drawls out _interim _that the board is gonna be cheap and not only- not renew my contract , but try and hold out on the bonus I was to receive if successfully completing the year in the black whilst maintaining educational standards as evidenced by end of term test results.

Now, I admit, the Zamboni was quite an expense, but the winter sports tourney brought in a lot of broadcasting and advertisement revenue. It wasn't enough to cover the expense in its entirety, but the elves made up the difference with snow cone sales during an unseasonable warm spring.

A fact; which I relay along with all the other pertinent events of the second term under my watch.

By the look of shock on the woman and the rest of the board's faces, I can tell they're impressed.

* * *

><p><strong>The next day...<strong>

What an ungrateful bunch of ****ers! Now I know how Dumbles felt. Ironic, isn't it.

**Forcible resignation** and the threat of **no** bonus to boot despite meeting the requirements of my contract and then some. They actually had the nerve to pull out some obscure clause about "moral impropriety" or some such rot.

They kept throwing the whole "Daphne Greengrass" thing in my face even though I showed them via pensive my memory of the Dark Lord's current state of ineptitude.

If that isn't evidence of effectively neutralizing his Voldiness than what is?

I mean, come on; the man can't even wipe his arse without assistance, thanks to my forward thinking.

At least Tofty and Governor Haines appreciated the end results; that and the lovely, if troubled, Miss Greengrass' assets.

I've never seen such unusual cravings for glass of milk before. They kept going on and on about calcium deficiency and the importance of maintaining healthy bones as one matures.

Take a pill or a potion, or better yet, suck on a one of Dumble's lemon drops. It may not take care of your calcium deficiency, but it'll definitely give you a good healthy boner.

Well, at least there's something positive that came out of losing my position as Headmaster.

Yours truly is currently the new undersecretary to Minister of Magic.

Well, it's really just a summer intern program, but apparently I have an aptitude for it.

Anyway, here's what happened in a nutshell. When things went pear shaped, Madam Bones had the audacity to call in the aurors to try and charge me with reckless endangerment or some such crock.

Well, Fudge always has an ear out for anything Harry Potter related so he came along with the aurors to see what's what?

He gets there to find Madam Bones raving at yours truly...

"I'll have you kissed for this! Better yet, Life in Azkaban and then kissed!..."

Blah-Blah-Blah.

I admit I tuned her out by the time that Fudge and company arrived. I've been threatened by the best and frankly, she's got a long way to go.

Fudge is calling for calm whilst Dumbles is giggling like a lunatic at my expense.

I'll get back to that ingrate in a moment.

Anyway,... Bones calms down enough to tell Fudge what it is I've done that she finds so criminal in nature.

He hears the whole "Daphne" scenario,( I still swear its gotta be the name), and turns a rather grave expression my way and asks...

"Well, what have you to say for yourself Headmaster Potter?"

I know he's expecting the whole.. 'I've been bad' shtick, but it's just not in me as I truly believe that I've done a heckuva a service to the school and the magical community as a whole.

So I let the evidence speak for itself.

I play the Voldie and Mummy scene for his Fudgyness' consideration.

He comes out of the pensive grinning like a Cheshire cat while half of his aurors are laughing themselves silly and the other half are toasting myself over a glass of milk along with Governor Tofty.

Up until now I didn't think Dawlish had a sense of humor. That and I'd no idea that Tonks played for the other team. She's gulping down milk like she's got Ricketts.

After the dust settles and Fudge mans up and refuses to hear a word over trumping up charges against yours truly, (it helped to remind him over my late Godfather's lack of a trial and subsequent innocence).

In a fit of impotent fury Bones manages to at least try and get the board to sack me and nullify my bonus.

The operative word is **try**.

The vote's a split decision as I've got a trump card. Lucius Malfoy's signed affidavit that votes in my favor along with the male half of the board along with Augusta Longbottom. What can I say other than she now thinks I walk on water for helping her son and daughter in-law back to a state of ,.. er.. wellness?

Sheesh... I can't believe I used that term in describing Neville's parents, but I'll get back to that later. Everything sort of shakes out to the mutual agreement of everyone involved once I agree to resign.

Now, I'm still miffed about the whole "no bonus" thing so I agree to waive the bonus in lieu of a year's severance pay or exclusive ownership of the Zamboni .

Bones and company scoff at both until I point out that not only am I the only licensed driver for said Zamboni, but I also took the liberty of freeing the schools elves as they expressed an acute desire to work exclusively for yours truly in a new business venture selling frozen confections such as Magical Malts and Elf Pops. I've yet to come up with a name for the business but I'm leaning towards: Potter's Popsicles.

Strange... Bones seems to have acquired that same facial tic that used to trouble Dumbledore. Maybe her monocle caused some nerve damage when it broke?

Fudge though, he's absolutely impressed with my ingenuity and goes so far as comment that I could have a bright future in politics some day.

_Politics, huh?_

I gotta admit I like the sound of "Minister Potter". So I make a few suggestions while he's feeling generous and -Viola!

I have a new summer internship.

Dumbles is laughing fit to bust at this point and myself and Fudge are both casting pitying look of disappointment his way. I can see that we're of a like mind in that the poor bloke was released too soon from the asylum.

I think Fudge and I are going to get along in the political arena far better that I would have thought as evidenced by the aurors hauling Dumbles off for another extended stay to recover his mental health- for "the greater good".

* * *

><p><strong>Present...<strong>

Now I know why they call the job "undersecretary". I sifting through a mountain ofpaperwork whilst his Fudgyness is out on another martini lunch with the ambassador of who knows where, discussing I can give a shite.

No wonder the man has so many undersecretaries carrying his arse. Between the morning screw drivers cabinet staffing meetings, martooney lunches with visiting dignitaries and an afternoon bracer or three to wrap up the day; the man's lucky he can sign his name legibly let alone actually do the paperwork himself.

If it wasn't for vegetable or fruit garnishes in his drinks; the man's body would never meet any of the daily nutritional requirements.

There is at one least bright horizon in all of this. The job does have perks.

I press the call button on my desk and my personal secretary hastily scurries in to see what I need.

"Ah, **Weatherby**... run these down to magical games and sports,.. there's a good lad."

"It's Weasley, sir.

Yes, yes...and bring me a espresso on your return, **Perry**." I add in afterthought, returning to my work with renewed motivation.

After about a week or so I took a leaf out of Fudge's page and found I can get a lot more of the really necessary work done by delegating.

As I've only got one man under me, I logically delegated the majority of my paperwork to Weatherby.

Unfortunately, I'm still responsible for signing my name to his completed work, but I'm looking into a _rubber stamp charm_ that should cut down on this tedious, but necessary chore.

It's necessary as how else am I going to take credit for the man's work?

He's a likeable enough, but I'm not sure if he's entirely happy in his chosen occupation or if he just has some indigestion problems as he's always groaning and moaning every time I add another sheaf of paperwork to the mountain already covering his desk top.

Such are the expectations of a successful administration that time management is of the utmost priority. Perhaps the man has organizational deficits. I'll have to look into some night courses for the fellow.

What's another two or three hours of classes a night after a long day compared to the benefits he could gain in the future?

If he learned how to more effectively manage his time he could probably cut a good one and a half to two hours out of his sixteen hour workday.

Speaking of which; I realized during one of our daily wrap ups that we would get a lot more accomplished if half the department heads didn't have to run to the bathroom every five minutes.

Don't these people realize that alcohol has a diuretic effect on the body?

I know I've only been on the job a little under two weeks, but in that time I've learned enough to know that you have to pick the battles you can win.

I'm not going to get the department heads and his Fudgyness to cut out alcohol from their daily routines, not when it helps them get thru a daily relatively sane while still making some gains in managing the wizarding world's affairs.

I realize the job's stressful and they need some outlet. So,... if boozing stays then maybe we can work the flip side to our advantage.

I did the math. Out of a two hour staffing we spent a total of twenty three minutes actually discussing public concerns and the rest of the time either using the toilet or waiting for the return of those who were utilizing said facilities.

That's pathetic.

With, what I think, a valid concern in mind, I took quill in hand and sent off a missive to that undiscovered, but brilliant herbalist: Argus Filtch.

If the wizarding world has potions to make you go then they undoubtedly have ones to dry you up.

I could do the research myself, but Weatherby's already looking a bit peaky from his long hours of night school.

Besides, Filtch likes a good bottle of Ogden's now and again and I figure I'll have it to spare if the cabinet cuts down on their consumption. Even if by half, Filtch will never want for a full liquor cabinet and the Ministry will cover more ground than ever before.

I feel it's my civic duty as a public servant to explore all options to ease the burden on the public trust.

_Merlin that sounded good. I'm gonna have to write that down if I ever decide to run for a permanent ministerial position._

_Maybe I should look into the Wizengamot as a judge or something? I mean, there's no body more fair minded than yours truly._

_Yes, I could definitely get into this whole political gig. I was probably thinking to small as Headmaster._

_It's a prestigious position to be sure, but its sphere of influence is limited to the student population. I could do a lot more damage, er, ah.. I mean __**good**__. I could do a lot more __**good**__ on a much broader scale as Minister of Magic._

_In order to pursue my dream I need to make a name for myself in the political arena. _

_So then, first things first: improving departmental head efficiency._


	10. Chapter 10: Back to square one

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Sorry I've been distracted-now back to the fun. We left off with Harry starting an internship at the Ministry...

**Chapter Ten: Back to square one**

Now I ask you; how the hell was I suppose to know that not being able to pee for extended periods could cause atonic bladder and, or kidney malfunction? I'm no healer.

What I am is an over worked and underpaid public servant. _Omigod! I beginning to sound like Fudge now?!_

Where was I, oh yes... _atonic bladder_. Now for those of you not in the know an atonic bladder occurs when, after extended periods of urinary retention, the bladder loses its tone and becomes nothing more than a water bag, incapable of either holding urine or successfully acknowledging the urge to let down, er,..ie.. 'respond appropriately to the urge to pee'.

Pardon my use of medical jargon.

All I wanted was a more efficiently working departmental structure. What I got after extended brewing and experimentation was a total wash out- literally so.

Merlin above, what a mess! After replacing the carpets in the board room twice, our departmental heads came to the conclusion,( efficiently as always), that it would save both time and money to install either tile or linoleum.

Great minds that they are, they decided on tile as it looks and wears nicer than the alternative. It does mop up well, but my nose is telling me that the type they chose is of a porous nature as the room now smells like one of those port-o-poties, despite repeated cleaning by both magical and muggle means.

Hell, we even bleached the floor which if anything mad the stench more toxic.

Initially I thought I'd single handedly increased governmental efficiency by a hundred and fifty percent. Fudge and his cronies didn't stop drinking alcohol mind, but at least they didn't have to run to the bathroom every five damn minutes. This unfortunately inspired them to greater heights of imbibing. It was like giving candy to a diabetic and simultaneously lowering his blood sugar, ie,.. **no** downside.

Again, pardon my use of medical jargon.

I brewed a special batch of _Potter's Pee Preventer_ and added it to their varied decanters within the workplace.

Now it didn't work on everyone, not because of any special adaptability or resistance to my formula, but rather the drunken sod's had more hiding places for their booze than a _revealing spell _could find.

Well sir, the more they drank the less frequently they had to go. This delighted them and they drank more. They drank more and peed less. More- less. Eventually they didn't go at all.

So what did they do? Did they stop drinking and seek medical intervention as the label clearly indicated -NO.

They drank until they burst-literally.

Fudge blew like a fire hydrant on a hot summer day. It was one long, powerful spray. The man bolted for his bathroom and upon filling the toilet faster than he could flush- he opted for the bath tub.

Reasonable, you might assume under the circumstances? Wrong.

As I said before, the less they went- the more they drank. The drunken sod slipped on his own pee drenched floor, took a header into the bath tub and the rest as they say... is history.

I can see by your dull expressions and vacant eyes that you're not getting it?

Have you ever heard the expression "drowning in your own piss"?

Now most people use this little euphemism to describe having to endure suffering your own mistakes.

Say,.. that kind of does apply here, but I was thinking more literally again.

Still not getting it, huh?

He drowned in the bath tub which was incidentally filed with his own piss.

That's the official report- what a cheap cover up.

The truth is, is that what he peed out was nearly eighty proof as there was so much of it his blown liver couldn't even process the stuff. Now, Fudge being the drunkard that he is, he proceeded to try and drink his way out of his predicament.

Ever hear of a brewery worker falling into a beer vat and try to drink his way down to safety?

It's the same principal here only Fudge was fighting a losing battle as he was passing it as fast as he could drink it.

Again- atonic bladder.

Say that's kind of an amusing thought. It's like the age old- 'what came first; the chicken or the egg?'

Anyway, I'm reliably informed that he died with a great big smile on his face, preserved for all time by copious amounts of alcohol. It's a natural preservative you know.

I heard they didn't need to embalm him. Nice that, saved the public the expense of having to pay for it.

It's a shame really. After having to have Dumbledore committed, "for the greater good", Fudge and I were starting to bond.

We might never have been friends but I at least had some _measure_ of respect for the man. I think the _measure_ being one part lithium and two parts powdered bicorn horn to be exact.

"_Poor Fudge is dead, a candle lights his head. He's looking oh so purdy and serene..."_

Awe cripes, I'm singing from 'Oklahoma' this time. I've been absently singing show tunes ever since I went to that fiasco of a diner at the Longbottom's.

"Come and meet the family, Harry. My mum can't wait to meet you. She says she's heard so many good things about you." Neville gushed.

She's heard good things alright and I can guess where: Mc-Gon-a-gal.

There I was sitting across from my God mum at the dining table. I should have known something was up when they cooked my favorite: Turkey. One minute I'm sitting there engaging in polite conversation between forkfuls and the next thing I know...

"Urp...!" I half choke on the cranberries, again-literally.

"Are you alright , dear?" Alice Longbottom asks with maternal worry etching her voice, but eyes that could out "twinkle" Dumbles on his best day.

"Er,.. I'm fine." I answer sheepishly taking a swig of wine to clear the remains from my throat and...

"Urk..!" I spill red wine down my dress shirt.

"Oh,.. what a shame... that'll stain if we don't treat it right away." Alice suggests half pulling me out of my chair as I try in vain to brush away her reaching hands.

"It's ok I've got others, really... it's an old shirt..."

"Now you listen to your godmother, Harry. She knows what's best." Frank Longbottom half scolds/ half cajoles.

I wonder if he'd be half so willing to send me off with my wicked godmother if he knew it was her toes in my lap that caused all this fuss in the first place.

"No, really.. I should be going anyway.. lot's to do and... eep!" I screech in alarm as wicked God mum yanks me right off my feet and into what can only be described as the nursery from hell!

"This would have been your nursery..." she sighs in regret. "If things hadn't turned out the way they did for Frank and me? We made some changes, hoping that you'd consider moving in?" she drawls, licking her lips lasciviously.

Nursery? Changes? Are you kidding me?!

The joint looks like Sesame Street meets Dante's inferno. On the far wall there's a giant blow up picture of Bert and Ernie that depicts why they remained roommates when they seemingly didn't get along.

There's a reason they're puppets.

My supposed bed is an over sized crib complete with bars that don't look so much as for my personal safety, but more for captivity's sake. Instead of a mobile over the bed I've got a trapeze.

There's man sized changing table next to the ,.. er, crib?... that had a variety of lotions and powders ready to hand that appear to have little to do with personal hygiene and I don't even want to think what's all stashed away in the storage bins underneath.

Godmum rings a little bell and who pops in, but the former _Nurse Daphne_ who is not only their personal health technician whilst they seemingly still need to recover, but she delightedly informs me that she is also employed as mine and Neville's personal nanny.

_Hmm, that explains the matron outfit complete with white stockings, albeit, fish net white stockings._

_I wonder what the burp towel is for that she has positioned over her left shoulder? No... don't go there... Bad Harry... very bad._

What is it with chicks named Daphne?

If I had the time and we weren't so drastically over budget I'd devote a research grant to studying this phenomenon. If certain numbers are magically powerful than why not names?

I mean anything that could take down Voldemort and at the same time provide for the care and wellbeing of the infirm was definitely something worth researching, if for no other reason than posterity's sake.

Well sir, before I can say _goo-goo_ the two of them have got my clothes off.

"Hey, I only stained my shirt?"I complain, trying and failing to cover my modesty _who_, by the by, is willfully betraying his master by stirring to life.

_It's got to be the sudden cool air,.. it's just gotta be?_

"Yes, but you are all sticky and need a bath." Daphne coos suggestively.

Alice sings out that she'll soak my shirt and start my bath water as Daphne pokes and prods my protesting form toward the bathroom.

There are three faucets running hot, cool and warm water at the same time and four flavor scented bath foams.

_Flavor scented? Hey wait a minute? _

"What're you going to do with that? You keep that sponge away from me, lady. No, I won't uncross my legs. What's that rubber frog for...URP!"

"Don't worry, my Harry. You'll feel oh so much better once you're all clean and had a good night's rest." Alice coos suggestively. "Why _tomorrow_ you'll feel like a new man."

"No...no...oh...OH.. _Ohhhh_, _The sun will come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar on tomorrow...Come what may... TOMORROW-TOMORROW..I LOVE YA...TOMORROW...You're only a day a-wayyy..."_

I don't know what it is, but ever since that night I keep popping out show tunes whenever I'm feeling particularly emotional.

That and I've decided that if I ever have a child of my own I am definitely employing a nanny named Daphne to "help wittle Harry get all cwean".

He'll thank me for it one day.

Enough about tomorrow, here in the present I'm still sitting in my cubical awaiting the pleasure of the _new _Minister of Magic, one... Arthur Weasley.

The ungrateful sod.

That damn Wizengamot didn't even consider me for the job. They said I lack in experience, what with only being an intern for a mere two months. What they really mean by experience is that I can't hold my liquor they way Fudge could. In that regard –who can?

They're right about the liquor though. The last time I got good and pissed was the day I got canned from Hogwarts and fell into this ministry gig. Naturally my grateful peers at Hogwarts wanted to throw me a little get together to commiserate my leaving and celebrate my good fortune in landing a better than average entry level job at the Ministry.

All I can really remember from my going away party was that Goblin ale, (supplied by Flitwick), is as potent as drinking rubbing alcohol. That and Filch informs me- now, that aphrodisiac potions seem to be more powerfully active when combined with butter cream frosting; which explains why Porfessor Mc-G, insisted upon making the cake herself. That and the fact that she was trying to "fatten me up" by insisting I have two extra helpings.

Ya know something..? That old girl is gonna make one hell of a Headmistress with a strong emphasize on _mistress. _She invited me up to her office to show me the personal touches she added.

The place looked like some Sultan's tent out of Ali Baba. Thick Persian carpets covered with poufs which I found out later were purely for positioning purposes.

The place was one giant harem of decadence.

You ever heard of the dance of seven veils? Well I hadn't, but I'm acquainted with it now. She did the whole spiel complete with symbols, a heady incense that was probably the magical world's version of hashish and a ruby in her navel to complete the effect.

Where she got a ruby that large to fit her navel I'll never know? And talk about sticking charms? I'll bet you couldn't of pried that ruby out with a can opener, I should know.. I tried, but the suction on that thing was incredible. I broke three fingernails in the attempt.

Boy did she pick up on Dumble's old tricks to. Every decanter in the joint, of which there are many, was filled to the brim with yep,.. you guessed it- lemon drops.

I swear it was a damn week before Mohammed could leave the damn mountain, if you know what I mean? That and the fragrance of lemons on my breath finally abated.

You know... I just had a stroke of genius, hmm, it propably was a stroke. Anyway, I've got an idea for the Magical world's version of Life Savers. Think of it? I could give Bernie Bott's beans a run for their money.

I've gotta get in touch with the twins and strike while the iron's hot. We could do a line for the kids, maybe.. banana flavor that turns you into a chimp for a few minutes. Pear flavored turns you pear shaped like one of those Oompa-Loompas on Willy Wonka. The possibilities are endless.

I decided we could do an adult line inspired by Dumbles.. We could keep the Lemon flavored aphrodisiac for sentimental reasons. Add a cherry flavored one for those wishing to turn back the clock to a state of innocence. For Professor Mc-G that will be some pre-Victorian era. A nice, **long** lasting banana flavored one for the gents. Grapefruit for the ladies-He-He-He.

You see where I'm going with this? Man 'o man I'm gonna be rich. Hey, wait a minute,.. I'm all ready rich. Hmm,.. well,.. I'll figure out something constructive to do with the extra money.

Beep!

The sound of my intercom alarm tells me Minister Weasley beckons.

I poke my head in his orange headed worship's office. "You wanted something, sir?"

"Ah, yes,.. Pisser,.. there's a good lad. Take a letter for me."

"That's Potter, sir" I correct politely. Though I have to give him credit- Pisser's a good one in view of recent events.

You know,.. I like Mr. Weasley, I really do, but Minister Weasley...?

"Yes, yes, Porker... the letter..." he waves off distractedly.

Hmm, it must be the job? Maybe Voldie put a curse on it that turns those subsequently elected into idiots. That or you'd have to be an idiot to want the job in the first place.

Now, I could put up with Mr. Weasley getting the minister's gig, I really could. Even though the only reason he got the job was primarily due to the fact he doesn't imbibe. Which is rather amazing given the fact that he's married to Molly.

As I said, I could handle that, but him promoting Percy back over me, well sir.. that leaves a bad after taste in my mouth like one of Dumble's,.. er, scratch that,.. one of Mc-G's lemon drops.

Note to self.. 'tweak formula to eliminate bad aftertaste'. I want people clamoring for more. It's just good business.

"And further more Blah-Blah-Blah..." sheesh can this guy run on. You know, I don't think I've ever heard Mr. Weasly say a paragraph, not that he can finish a thought without Molly taking over the conversation. But Minister Weasely is another critter entirely.

Diarrhea of the mouth or what?

Say, there's an epiphany. I wonder if the twin "you no poo' line could dry up Minister Weasley's diatribe?

Aw the hell with that, Molly'll shut him up good when he gets home. Course, I notice he's been spending more and more time at the office of late. I wonder if years of hen peckery have caught up and the man is bursting to let it all out- literally so.

"There's a good man, Porter, no off you get and send a copy to the individuals depts. And the wizengamot for their consideration. "

"It's Potter, sir." I grumble wearily.

"Yes, yes, Pervo, that'll be all." He dismisses me without so much as a glance in my direction as he returns to reading his muggle funnies which he thinks are a work of non-fiction.

_Wait a minute..Pervo?_

I'm insulted, albeit it's a rather true and honest mistake, but for all that I'm outraged_._

That's it. Past considerations aside, this guy just blipped on my radar screen.

_What to do... what to do...?_

_Eureeka-I've got it!_

_Harry.. you Pervo!_

Weasley returns home late as per usual these days and I go to work...

A few charms around the office, a picture or two, some flowers... yes,.. that's nice.

Now I can get a good night's sleep and look forward to Tomorrow-_Tomorrow... I love ya tomorrow... you're only a dayyyy a-wayyyy. Stop that, enough already- sheesh._

Tomorrow comes and as per usual, Arthur Weasley sneaks in early to avoid spending extra time with his wife. The job has become the man's escape. Now I can't fault him for that ever man needs his safety zone, but then again- he blipped on my radar.

Before tha man's arse can warm his chair I'm already hatching my evil master plan and am lovingly wrapping my, I mean hs gift to the little woman that I send off with the Minister's own private owl.

Some flowers for Molly, laced with the concentrated extract from one of my most potent aphrodisiac candle lines. A small bag of treats with- yup, you guessed it; some special lemony confections that are sure set the mood. Last but not least... a rather provocative, if not skimpy, ensemble with an invitation to "lunch" with the minister's private floo address highlighted in Pink lettering.

Amore ,... I'm a true romantic at heart. Did I mention that I made a point of offering to clean and polish the Minister's wand. I used a special polish; one that blocks prophylactic charms.

He'll thank me for it later.

It's nearly noon time and I'm twitching in my seat in eager anticipation.

The second hand finally hits twelve and I pop out of my seat.. "Let's get ready to Rum-bleeeee!"

In my zeal I accidently click on the Minister's office intercom link.

It's a somewhat honest mistake. That and my having charmed the pictures in the Minsiter's office to display the inner workings of the people's government much like a close circuit television only using pictures throughout the Ministry to display the live feed.

I'd like to take credit, but really I got the idea from Dumbles and the way he used the portraits around the castle to spy on students, especially that slut of a mermaid in the prefects bathroom.

But, I digress.

"M-Molly...what're you...?" the man gasps in shock.

Molly Weasley has emerged from the Minsiter's private floo with her red tresses pinned up, a semi opaque black pin stripe secretary's power outfit complete with pad and quill in hand.

"I'm ready to take **dic**-tation, Minister he-he-he." she simpers suggestively.

"Oh dear..." she dropped her quill and bent over to pick it up giving the man, (and the rest of the ministry), a panoramic view of her ample posterior that has red glowing letters that state:

**Classified material- Minister's eyes only**

I've got admit, nice touch that. You know, as well rounded as Professor Mc-G is she's got nothing on Molly Weasley's well rounded- _wait .. what am I saying!_

_Bad Harry.. very bad... _I'm gonna smoke a turd in hell for that one!

If not for that, than for what I do next.

Being the romantic that I am I wait for Weasley to finish passing some rather personal legislation and then pay him a little visit.

He didn't tab me _Pervo_ for nuthin.

A few glamours, a familiar skimpy secretary's outfit, pad and guill and a rather voluptuous, blonde and _younger_ secretary enters the Minister's office to take...

"I'm here for our usual rendezvous Minister to take **dic**-tation." I simper suggestively.

"Arthur Weasley!" Molly shrieks in outrage trying and failing to cover her bits with her hands.

Come on, the human hand is only so big.

You know something... that Molly Weeasly has got the whole MILF thing down... _oh-God! Stop that, what's wrong with me...?!_

Sigmund Freud couldn't cure my mother complex in a year of couch time.

Anyway, back to the former, Minister Weasley. I feel sorry for the man, I really do. These aren't tears of mirth, really they aren't.

Apparently the Wizengamot was appalled and sickened by the way he conducted his ministerial duties.

Personally, I think they're all jealous as the man proved he's got _staying power_. Many of the department heads apparently agreed as they elected him their union rep in a land slide vote.

I'm reliably informed that they were of a mind that Arthur was the kind of man who wouldn't back down in the face of insurmountable adversity.

He should be out of St. Mungo's spell damage ward just in time to entrench himself in his new duties just before the arrival of yet another Weasley.

Now **eight** might not be a magically powerful number, but if it's a girl I know just the name to suggest to put the proper spin on things.

D-A-P-H-N-E

Thank Merlin it's nearly September and I can drop this Ministerial nightmare, er, I mean opportunity.

I'd like to believe if nothing else I've got a real handle on how to conduct myself professionally within the political arena. Ethics aren't just a word, but something I feel I've brought back to civil service in spades.

Thankfully I had a week to rest and relax before entering my final NEWT year. I spent the week under the supportive and nurturing care of my God family.

Thank Merlin, schools starting as I can't take any more supportive and nurturing care, at least not without breaking out in show tunes at the top of my lungs.

Speaking of singing.. you know that Voldemort really has a nice rich baritone. No seriously, I mean it. The man can hit some pretty amazing chords with the right prompting, but just what Daphne Greengrass was doing to him when he came up with that unexpected falsetto I'd rather not repeat.

I'd thought about working on severing the link with his former dark-ness, but I don't think I could sacrifice the loss of inspirational material.

I owe it to the people. The everyday shmoe who needs a little pick me up, a chuckle or two to brighten another tedious, if not, dreary day in his or her daily endeavors.

By that I mean that I owe it to myself.

I created this masterpiece and I'm gonna run with it. They don't call me Hairy Pervo, ah,.. I mean Harry Potter for nothing.

* * *

><p>Merlin the ride to school on the Hogwart's express seems to go on forever, of course it doesn't help that the Creevy brothers keep harassing me.<p>

"Do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know,.. turn into creepy mist and seep under the door to feed on your virgin prey or something."

"Colin, have you and your brother been watching crummy vampire flicks on the late night telly again?" I assume.

"Yeah, but they're cool."

I roll my eyes. "So is a glacier but you don't see me wasting my time watching one."

_Hey, that's a good metaphor. I'm gonna have to writ e that one down._

"How about a bat then."

"Sure, why not."

"Really, you'd do that so I can get a picture for the school's annual?"

"Absolutely" That said I conjure a baseball bat and proceed to beat the annoying little flea with it.

"Did you get a good shot of that?" I ask as the twerp groans and limps away with his broken camera.

_Ah well, at least I can preserve the image in a pensieve._

* * *

><p>The beginning of the school year feast is about to begin and the sorting hat is singing its usual spiel about uniting against the common foe. Now normally I wouldn't mind , but this year everyone's casting surreptitious looks my way and I'm starting to feel a bit underappreciated if not downright unwanted.<p>

It's not bad enough that I've been demoted to a mere student again, but hey, I'm still an adult and should at least have the use of my wand, shouldn't I? It's not my fault , I genuinely thought I was serving the public trust by keeping the student population safe.

Here I was walking into the castle for my last term, just minding my own business, and out of nowhere a blast from the past pops up in front of me.

Now, I know for a fact that the greasy git is dead, cause I was there when he died, tragic accident that.

Anyway, I'm just coming through the castle doors when the great bat swoops up in front of me with his trademark sneer in place, drawling out the usual... "So nice of you to join us, Mr. Potter. That'll be oh say fifty points from Gryffindor for your..erp!"

Now come on, it was pure reflex on my part. Seriously, Death Eater and all around creep that he was at least he did the noble thing and died, thereby serving the public interest for once in his miserable life. Now,.. here the villain is resurrected from the dead- _nuh- uh, I'm not having any_.

So being the conscientious young man that I am, I desperately try to put right what has obviously gone horrifically wrong and hit the king of creepiness with every hex in the book from first year through sixth year curriculum and even throw in a few seventh year spells for good measure.

Hermione would be so proud that I've been studying ahead. Speaking of Hermione, apparently her parents locked her in some sort of rehab over the summer and she looks good- very good. You know... I'm thinking maybe her and I should get together in the _other than_ friends sense. Brains, looks and an addictive personality... sounds like a winner to me. Now,.. _waitaminute... where was I?_

Oh, yeah... the pudding that was once the resurrected Snape. I thought Malfoy looked bad that time we all hexed him into oblivion on the Hogwarts express, but this?

Have you ever seen one of those gelatin moulds that doesn't come out of the mold rights and just looks like a blob of goo? Well, there you go.

So there I was pocketing my wand whilst taking grim satisfaction in that I've saved many a first year from wetting their beds at night. Now, I wasn't exactly expecting an award for services to the school, but an "atta boy, Harry" would've been nice.

What I got was professors pouring out of the woodwork with wands drawn, all of them pointed at me. Now I ask you,.. how was I to know that Nymphadora Tonks took over the D.A.D.A class and was using her metamorphing skills to play a little sprank on yours truly.

I suppose I may have overlooked the fact that Snape's features strated changing drastically when the hexes started flying, but I just thought I was doing an admirable job of it. In retrospect, it explains why the goo at my feet keeps cycling though different colors of the rainbow.

It's strange that... It almost looks like there's a pattern to the color changes...?

Blue-Blue-Blue...Greeeen-Blue-Greeeen...

"Omigod,...it's Morris Code!" I shout in revelation. "Quick somebody, give me a quill and parchment."

The guill and parchment and no sooner in my hand than the flashes from the goo pile start again in earnest...

I-t-h-i-nk-i-s-w-a-l-l-o-w-e-d-m-y-s-p-l-e-e-n- Stop... I-m-g-o-i-n-g-t-o-k-i-l-l-P-o-t-t-e-r-i-f-i-l-i-v- e-t-h-r-u-t-h-i-s-Stop...

_Poor girl is in so much pain she doesn't know what she's saying_. A quick erasure spell removes the evidence of what I'm sure would only embarrass her if made public.

"Tonks..try to use your metamorph abilities to pull yourself together." I yell into the puddle of jelly in roughly the direction of where Snape's ears used to be when he did his 'wicked witch of the west' interpretation.

More colors... _maybe my message got through?_

i-w-a-n-t-y-o-u-n-e-u-t-e-r-e-d-t-o-p-r-o-t-e-c-t- f-u-t-u-r-e-g-e-n-e-r-a-t-i-o-n-s-Stop.

_She must be in agony; either that or her brain is losing cohesion like the rest of her._

y-o-u-j-u-s-t-w-a-i-t-u-n-t-i-l-i-g-e-t-m-y-h-a-n- d-s-b-a-c-k!

A snort from my left tells me that Prof Mc-G is reading over my shoulder. I color slightly in embarrassment making sure she understands that... "She's talking out of her head-literally."

A gasp and a pointing hand from Mc-G has me looking down curiously. _Thata girl, nymphie!_

I'm relieved to see that she's starting to pull herself together as a hand rises out of the primordial goo that used to be my favorite auror.

My relief turns to disgust when a very universal one fingered sign greets yours truly.

There's gratitude for you.

So here I am drinking my feast through a straw as my hands are currently manacled to my seat and my wand is in Professor Mc-G's breast pocket which she pats almost languidly every time she catches my eye.

I've got a bad feeling that getting my wand back is going to cost me a lot more than your average detention.


End file.
